Just Family
by Grey'sAddict97
Summary: A story about the budding relationship between Owen and Amelia that transforms into a marriage and then a family. The first 15 chapters of Just Family, the last the a series, focus upon the family's readjustments as Owen returns from overseas and upon Owen's process of healing from war injuries. As the family rediscovers their footing, new life emerges
1. The Dance of Reality

**_Just Family is the second book in a series about Owen and Amelia. It begins moments after the last scene in Just Friends. Although a new reader might miss some nuances (just like when you start watching a TV series in seasons 2 or 3), starting with this book is possible._**

* * *

**_Chapter 1: The Dance of Reality_**

Amelia looked over her shoulder and put the rig in reverse. Carefully backing out from the parking spot, Amelia was relieved to be leaving McChord Air Force Base, which represented Owen's latest tour and all that had brought. She smiled exuberantly as she shifted to drive then set her right hand on her husband's good leg, gushing, "Owen, I am so incredibly thrilled to have you home."

Setting his hand on top of hers, Owen met her grasp firmly and squeezed. He smirked with bittersweet joy. He was thankful to be home and see the kids. Just the same, he detested that he was coming home debilitated and in need. _Daddy isn't returning_, Owen had thought to himself earlier on the plane, _some incapacitated, dependent version of Daddy is showing up_. Attempting to sound sincere and grateful, rather than self-pitying, Owen blurted out, "I hope to God you still feel that way in a week…or in three weeks…or two months…or four months when I'm still hurting and helpless."

Shifting her focus from the road to Owen's face and quickly back, Amelia appeared crestfallen. Could Owen truly be worried that his family wouldn't stand by his side as he rehabilitated and healed? Sure, the process would be lengthy and sometimes challenging, but that didn't mean they would tire of his existence. She opened her mouth and breathed slowly. "We are your family, Owen. Please don't say that."

Owen's phrase was meant to be interpreted as humorous and self-depreciating, not as deeply significant. Unsuccessfully attempting to hide his fear of dependence through humor, Owen's surface level comment had stung Amelia, sounding to her as if he didn't have faith in his family's dedication. Still seeing his comment on a surface level, Owen shrugged casually, "It's true. It's my hope."

Still breathing through her mouth and occasionally swallowing, Amelia glanced up at the roof of the Buick. To her, his quip meant that he saw himself as burdensome and completely dependent on his inconvenienced family. That perspective shattered her soul. "Owen, I'm going to say this once," Amelia began calmly and flatly, "I am currently responsible for seven and a half lives as I drive all of us home on a pitch-black night. Our drive home will take 30 more minutes. If you could please refrain from shocking commentary during that time, I would be grateful."

Owen removed his hand and ran it over his hair, thinking to himself, _Oh fuck_. _What the hell? _As he brought his hand down, he folded his arms and gazed out the side window with an audible exhale.

Within the first five minutes of the drive, Finley was the only one of his generation that remained awake. "Mom?" Finley called out softly enough to not awaken his siblings, yet loudly enough to be heard in the front.

"She's driving, Finley. What do you need?" Owen answered with a slight edge in his voice.

Was he snapping or simply exhausted? Finley couldn't clearly discern the tone intellectually, but his gut told him Owen was tense. "Never mind," Finley responded pleasantly. He pursed his lips and moved them to one side, trying to survey the floor of the rig.

Owen, exhausted and overwrought, grumbled with irritation and minimal self-awareness, "You didn't call out for Mom for nothing. What's the problem?"

"Don't snap at him," Amelia insisted firmly. Changing her tone, Amelia called back, "Sweetie, what's up?"

"I've got a headache. I was thinking if I ate something, it might help. But it's no big deal, Mom. Really," Finley assured her, trying his best not to be a source of stress.

Glaring at Owen before responding, Amelia suggested, "Can you see the diaper bag? I'm sure there's something in there."

"I can't see it, already tried that," Finley responded. "Really, never mind, Mom. I'm sorry I bugged you. I know you're trying to drive."

Seeking to fix the situation, Owen opened up the glove box and spotted a granola bar. He turned slightly and threw it toward Finley kindly suggesting, "Catch, Fin."

"Thank you," Finley answered in a reserved tone, using his manners but not sure what to make of the earlier hostility from Owen.

Ten minutes later, Owen inquired with concern, "Headache any better, Finley?"

"No. It's worse," Finley explained briefly, not wanting to enter into conversation.

"Did he get enough sleep last night?" Owen asked Amelia.

"Yes," Amelia opined. Feeling tested and judged, she continued, "And he ate well throughout the day. Can you dig through my purse for an ibuprofen?"

Owen chuckled lightly, "You know I can never find anything in there. It's like a trauma room after everyone's gone up to the OR."

Amelia didn't respond. Owen was trying to shift the mood and make light of everything, but Amelia interpreted his words as sarcastic. She thought to herself, _Don't. Cry. Amelia, don't let him wear you down to tears. He's healing. He's tired. He's hurting. He's not trying to be an ass. Buck up and tolerate the tension. Everyone's just adjusting – you just didn't expect it to start on the drive home. _The possibility that she too might be overwrought and adjusting was not on her radar. Overly sensitive and yearning for life as it used to be, Amelia's tenderness was an unconscious factor in the situation.

"Are you ok?" Owen, who had long ago reoriented his mindset and tone, asked softly as he touched Amelia's upper arm gently.

"Mmm Hmm," she responded quickly.

Owen gazed at his wife and whispered, "Mia…I'm sorry. I've pissed you off, haven't I? Good Lord, Mia, I'm truly sorry. What can I do?"

Whispering back with exasperation, Amelia countered, "You can look through my damn purse for an ibuprofen."

Resting his head on the backrest, Owen sighed and thought, _Hell, it's great to be home. _Then he tried to reach down for her purse, which was set on the floor between their seats. He sighed in frustration and admitted with a sense of embarrassment, "I'm sorry. I can't bend to reach it."

Without looking, Amelia grabbed the purse and held it up, suggesting, "Try the inside middle pocket. There's probably a bottle of water in there too."

"Yep, right where you said. Now how the hell am I going to get it to him?" Owen pondered aloud.

"Just unbuckle briefly and lean over the 2nd row," Amelia proposed without thinking.

Owen swallowed his pride, looked down and mumbled, "I can't."

Amelia was embarrassed by her suggestion. Gently grasping her purse, she called softly to Finley, "I'm going to reach back as far as I can. Unbuckle and reach up to grab my purse, Finley. The meds are in the middle pocket and there's probably a bottled water in there, too."

"Ok," Finley groaned, shocked that Amelia was suggesting he unbuckle. If he did that on his own without permission, he knew the consequences would be serious. In the trauma surgeon's home, safety was a non-negotiable. Having been granted immunity, Finley unbuckled, reached over and grabbed the purse. Quickly rebuckling, Finley dug into the middle pocket. He found the meds and the water, then asked, "How many?"

Owen answered, "Take two." Simultaneously, Amelia responded, "Just one." Finley flopped his head onto the back of the seat. Having a pounding headache was bad enough without conflicting advice.

Amelia corrected her response, "Dad's right. Two would be good." Finley took the pills and closed his eyes, hoping the headache would disappear.

"I'm sorry," Owen reiterated softly. "Truly. I'm…"

"We're all in a funk. No apologies necessary, Owen," Amelia offered as she entered her code for the property's gate and drove toward the house. The dogs barked and ran alongside the car, happy to welcome home their people. Amelia hit the button for the garage door and started to drive in. She paused and inquired, "Are you going to have enough room to maneuver if I pull in?"

"Why not just pull into the middle bay?" Owen suggested with curiosity.

"I didn't think about the logistics, I guess. Your truck is in the middle. I can move it tomorrow," Amelia sighed, disappointed with herself. "Guess I should just stop in the driveway, then," she thought aloud as she parked and turned off the car. "I'm going to get the kids upstairs, then I can come help you, ok?"

"Yeah," Owen agreed with resignation. His level of helplessness was becoming more apparent by the minute.

"Mom," Finley offered, sounding exhausted, "I can help. Babies first?"

Amelia looked at Finley with a mixture of gratitude and apology, "Thanks, Fin. Which one do you want?"

"I've already got Gwen," Finley admitted as he came out Owen's side of the car. "And the diaper bag."

A few minutes later, Amelia and Finley returned. Owen's eyes were closed as he waited in the passenger seat. "How are we going to do this?" Amelia wondered aloud as she looked at Finley. "Can you carry Ollie? I know I can't."

"No, but I'll wake him up and help him upstairs. I can take Bronwyn up first, Mom. Why don't you help Dad?" Finley recommended.

"I'm gonna need you both, buddy, but that was a nice offer," Owen mentioned. "Mia, let him get Bronwyn – she's too heavy for you."

"I do it all the time, Owen," Amelia admitted with a shrug as she dismissed his input.

"Doesn't mean you should, right?" Owen countered, attempting to sound light while worried about the baby.

Finley was already stepping through the doorway to the house with Bronwyn in his arms when Amelia and Owen finished their exchange. He was gone about five minutes and returned saying, "Sorry I took so long. I made her wake up and pee so she wouldn't wet the bed." Finley turned to Oliver and tried to wake him up, "Oliver, we're home. You gotta wake up."

"Noooo," Oliver whined, half-asleep.

"C'mon, buddy, you're going to have to get yourself upstairs," Owen encouraged.

"Carry me, Daddy," Oliver begged.

"I can't, buddy," Owen confessed regretfully. "C'mon, you can do it."

Oliver slipped out of his seat with half-closed eyes as Finley advised, "I'll put my arm around you, Oliver. That'll help you get upstairs, ok?"

"We can't rely on him like this all the time," Amelia observed with a deep breath when Finley stepped inside. She rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm in the chilly evening weather.

"I know," Owen agreed.

Finley reappeared, looking tired and as if his headache was still pounding. "How can we make this easy for you, Dad?"

Amelia had already grabbed and opened the wheelchair. She placed it by the door exactly where Owen instructed and set the brakes. Owen asked Finley to get one of the crutches from the back and place it to his right. He slid to the side, facing outward, realizing the distance to the ground was far greater than the distance he was used to navigating.

"Crap, I'm up so high," Owen grumbled. "On second thought, let's bring the walker out too. Keep the chair where it is and put the walker right up against the car. I think I'm going to try sliding off the seat and onto the floor, then move from the floor to the walker. I can't move from the seat to the ground – it's too much distance and impact for my left leg."

Moving the seat back as far as he could, Owen carefully navigated his way on to the floor, using Finley's shoulder and the seat to help stabilize him. From there, he could easily slide onto the driveway and use the walker to get into the chair. The whole process took about 10 minutes and Amelia wondered how much time would pass before this practice became their new normal.

Standing on his left leg with his arms slightly shaking, Owen nudged the walker around a half circle a little at a time until his back was to the chair. "I'm sorry, you guys. I move pretty slowly, but we did it. Finley, buddy, thanks, man. Go on up to bed, I really owe you for all your help tonight," Owen gushed.

"No, you don't, Dad. It's what family does for each other, right?" Finley commented in a nonchalant manner as he leaned down and hugged Owen, "Welcome home, Dad. Good night." He stood up and kissed Amelia on the cheek then headed to bed.

As Amelia pushed Owen inside, she mumbled jokingly, "Umm…have you seen our 13-year-old? Looks like that kid but is far more argumentative and attitudinal."

Owen moved his head back to smile at Amelia and chuckled, "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Amelia went back outside to pull the rig into the garage and whistled for the dogs who came bursting in the door. Out of habit, they ran directly up the stairs and right into the boys' rooms. When Amelia came back in the house with Owen's pack, Owen laughed, "I don't think the dogs even saw me."

Setting the pack down, Amelia inquired, "So…meds…what do you need tonight?"

"I can get it. Go ahead and get ready for bed, Mia," Owen encouraged lovingly.

"It's ok, O. Let me help," she smiled.

Owen grimaced, "I think it's better if I manage my meds."

Furrowing her brow, she responded, "I'm not going to take them. Is that your fear?"

Sighing heavily, Owen looked up at Amelia and declared, "Let's not do this tonight, ok? We can figure out a system tomorrow."

Amelia looked at him with disappointment in his eyes and began to step away. Halfway to their temporary bedroom, she stopped and turned, asking, "Seriously, Owen? Really? Are you afraid to have the meds in my midst?" Her words were laced with a tone of hurt, surprise and sorrow.

"Mia…" Owen began slowly with loving concern. "Hey…let's talk about it tomorrow, ok?" He smiled and pushed his chair toward the fridge to get some water. By doing so, they were no longer in one another's line of sight. He reached into a particular area of the backpack and took his meds, carefully returning them to their hiding spot.

Even though he was exhausted, Owen wheeled over to the large windows overlooking the water. He gazed out and let the scene fill him. When he was overseas, his memory of the view had frequently provided a sense of peace.

About ten minutes later, Amelia came out and approached him from behind. She was wearing yoga pants and one of Owen's ARMY t-shirts. As she rubbed his shoulders, she commented, "Not an ideal first night back, but we'll get there."

"Yeah," Owen responded absently, not shifting his gaze away from the water.

"You coming to bed?" she asked with hope.

Owen turned his head and grinned, "Yeah. Yeah, I am." He pushed himself into the makeshift bedroom and pulled his chair alongside the bed.

"Do you need any help?" Amelia inquired.

"Nope," Owen responded as he clenched his teeth and focused on the task at hand. He placed his left foot on the ground and his left hand on a nightstand. Grasping the edge of the bed with his right hand, he shifted and lowered himself down. Amelia curiously watched the whole process. He sat on the bed, his right leg resting straight along the outer edge. Then, Owen pursed his lips and grumbled, "Damn it."

"What?" Amelia asked.

"I forgot to pee. I'm just getting used to not having that damn catheter," Owen huffed.

"Just so happens, I'm a doctor and bodily fluids don't bug me. Want me to grab something you can pee into? Or…if you really want me to, I could catheterize you," she teased.

"You're really funny," Owen nodded as he rolled his eyes. Humiliated, he took her up on her offer to bring a container.

She brought one over and politely offered, "You want me to leave the room?"

He was already taking care of business when she asked. Moments later, he sighed, "No, but, sorry, can you take it?"

"Not a problem," Amelia declared in her normal matter-of-fact tone. After dealing with the bottle and washing her hands, she brought it back, saying, "Just in case you need it overnight." She leaned over and set it on his nightstand, kissing him gently and repeatedly on the lips before returning to her side of the bed. "Good night, Major, Doctor, Husband, Daddy, incredible, handsome, finally home Owen Hunt," she smirked. "I love you."

Owen closed his eyes halfway and grinned from ear to ear, "I love you too, Mia. I love you too."


	2. Period of Adjustment

**_Chapter 2: Period of Adjustment_**

Owen looked at the clock after trying to fall back to sleep for over 30 minutes. 6:00 am. At least it was officially morning. Last time he checked the clock, it had read 2:00 am.

In a week, Owen had been in four different time zones. At this point, his body clock had no idea how to adjust itself. Besides constantly shifting time zones, Owen's pain meds caused him to nap on and off throughout the day. A good night's sleep was not his current experience.

He cleared his throat, hoping to accidentally on purpose wake up Amelia. When she didn't move, Owen decided that he'd forge ahead more boldly. He started by reaching over and caressing her arm gently, whispering, "I'm so happy to be waking up next to you."

Amelia offered a happy little sigh but said nothing. Next, Owen dragged himself over and began cuddling up to her. His unshaven face nuzzled in her cheek, ear, and neck, while his strong arm made its way around her body. He rested his hand between her breasts. He was obviously desperate for sex.

Without moving, Amelia purred, "Good morning, handsome man. I like not waking up alone. This is glorious." She set her hand atop his and snuggled her back toward his broad chest.

"Want to make it even more glorious?" Owen flirted. "I have a few ideas if you're interested."

Giggling, Amelia turned her head. She kissed her husband passionately as his hand slid up to grasp her face. As they kissed, Amelia turned her body to face his. Her eyes gazed at him as she traced his face, chin and ears with her soft hands. She leaned in and gently kissed the bruises on the side of his face and under his very short hair. As she did so, he closed his eyes and surrendered to her touch.

Nudging him gently, Amelia encouraged Owen to lie on his back. As his body melted in her hands, she kissed her way down from the facial bruises, to his ear, then to his neck. She nuzzled her face there, rubbing the sides of her face against him repeatedly like a contented cat. Owen hoped his hunch was right and that her kissing would go lower and lower on his body, eventually pleasuring him with her talented, sensual mouth.

Moving to kiss his chest, her hands and lips explored his pecs and shoulders. She nuzzled her face into his stomach, careful to avoid his gunshot wound. Wiggling her body into a new position, she moved his arm away from his body and kissed the length of his torso gently. The bruised area was soon covered in her love before she worked her way to his erection and took him deeply into her mouth. He moaned with pleasure and relief, whispering, "Oh, I've missed this."

Amelia's talent and abilities in all matters sexual was a gift Owen never took for granted. He'd been with many women over the years, but none even began to compare to Mia. During the last three years that they'd been together, a playful and curious part of him wanted to know how she learned her moves. He'd never worked up the courage to ask her, but he occasionally wondered about the various possibilities.

His abdomen contracted as he gasped and released his pent-up sexual energy. He groaned with pleasure as he closed his eyes tightly. He moved his chin toward his forehead and the crown of his head onto the pillow. "Miaaaaaa," he sighed as he hung on each sound in her name. He was unable to utter a complete sentence, slowly adding, "Oh my…" Amelia tumbled down into the space between his torso and arm, resting in the safety of his presence. Instinctually, his arm wound around her as he sighed with relaxed serenity.

The couple remained in that position and silently celebrated one another's presence. Owen's eyelids became heavy. Each blink was slower than the last. Within minutes, he was sound asleep and resting peacefully with his wife curled around him. Amelia let her thoughts wander as she glanced around the room.

* * *

At 7:00 am, Amelia slipped out of bed and headed upstairs to get the twins. Opposite of their daddy, their sleep habits were predictable, and clocks could be set by their routines. When she reached for Ella, who seemed far more awake than her sleepy sister, Amelia proclaimed exuberantly, "Happy birthday, big girl."

Ella smiled and clapped her hands in response to Amelia's tone, chattering and referencing her twin, "Mama. Mama. Gwen-ie. Gwen-ie up." Ella pointed at her sister and playmate, emphasizing again, "Up."

After changing Ella's diaper, Amelia reached in and picked up Gwen. Consistently slow to wake up, Gwen snugged into Amelia's chest right away and began searching for Amelia's breast. "Just a minute, baby girl. Let's get you changed first," Amelia suggested gently.

Oliver came sauntering in with blinking eyes and hair standing in myriad directions. He was clenching his baby blanket, which usually remained hidden in his bed, "Morning, Mommy."

"Hey, Ollie. You're just in time to keep an eye on your sisters while I wash my hands," Amelia pointed out as she stepped to the bathroom. When she returned, she sat down in the rocker and nursed Gwendolyn. Ella, far too engaged in playing with her brother, had no interest in being held and fed. She'd been weaning herself little by little over the last few weeks, and now nursed only before bed.

When Gwendolyn was done, Amelia requested to Oliver, "Can you help me take them downstairs to Daddy?"

Beaming, Oliver's eyes widened as he exclaimed, "That's right! Daddy's home! I forgot while I was sleeping." Oliver held Ella's hands protectively as he helped her slowly descend the stairs. He coached and encouraged his sister, pointing out, "Here comes another step…there you go! Good job, Ella. Now another one…" Amelia, touched by Oliver's attentiveness and carrying Gwen, followed.

Amelia knocked softly on the bedroom door and walked in. Owen was lying on his side with his head resting on his pillow. He turned his head and spotted the group out of the corner of his eye. Slowly and with much effort, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. Then grinning broadly, he declared, "Three of my favorite kiddos and my beautiful wife! Good morning."

Ella was still tentative about Owen. She stood at the edge of the bed staring at him soberly before making her way to the window. Oliver crawled onto the bed and made his way to Owen. Spreading his arm around Oliver, Owen hugged him from the side. He rubbed his right fist into Oliver's hair and messed it up before announcing, "Ah, much better." Oliver, blankie still in hand, looked up at his dad with admiration and giggled.

While her sister stood at the window and slapped her chubby hands upon it, Gwen crawled over to analyze her daddy. She babbled and called him Dada as she sought to grasp every angle and curve from his lips, teeth, ears and nose. When she saw the bruises on the side of his face, she showed concern as she commented, "Uh-Oh." Owen chuckled softly and stopped her before she attempted to grab his eyes. He redirected her toward his chin. Pretending to nibble her hands, Owen played with his daughter as he turned to Amelia and asked, "How's her PT going?"

"The progress has slowed a bit. They tell me that's normal. Sometimes she wilts and doesn't invest in the process. I'm not sure what that's all about," Amelia explained. She turned to Ella and encouraged her, "Ella, you want to sit with Oliver?" Ella nodded affirmatively. Amelia set her on the bed, and she crawled over to Oliver, smacking both her hands onto Oliver's chest with a laugh when she reached him.

Oliver grabbed her and tickled her until she squealed. "You know if you do that, you get tickled, Banana girl."

Gwen leaned over from Owen's grasp, "Me! Me!"

"You wanna be tickled too?" Oliver teased as he tickled her while she remained in Owen's grasp. He turned back toward Ella and encouraged her, "Daddy wants to give you hugs, Ella. Can he hold you?"

"No," Ella declared as she leaned backward and shook her head. Oliver looked up at Owen and shrugged with empathy.

"It's ok, buddy. It might take her a few days. Let's not rush her," Owen explained as a piece of his heart crumbled.

Bronwyn was heard from afar before she was seen. She was singing boisterously, composing both her lyrics and tune extemporaneously. Dancing into the room, Bronwyn sang her morning greeting as she twirled in circles, "Hi Daddy…how'd you sleep?"

Laughing, Owen spoke a response, "Great, Bronwyn. How about you?"

She stopped abruptly, nodded once and said, "Excellent." Her dancing resumed.

Oliver leaned toward Owen's ear and shared, "That's her new word. She can't spell it yet, but she says it all the time." Owen nodded as if he were making a mental note.

Resuming her concert, Bronwyn swung directly in front of Ella and sang, "And how are you, Ella?" The sisters planted kisses on one another. Bronwyn scooted onto the bed and sat beside Owen repeating the same routine with Gwen

Yawning, Finley entered and rounded out the family as the dogs came bounding in behind him. Both Nala and Simba jumped onto the bed and expressed joy at seeing Owen. Simba playfully grumbled at Owen as Nala rolled around on her back. Rather than petting them, Owen snapped his fingers and pointed down. Both dogs sadly scampered off the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Finley pointed out, "We don't have to go to school, but everyone's already awake."

"Habit," Amelia smirked and shrugged.

Finley reached out for Ella and gently removed her from Oliver's grasp. He celebrated, "Happy Birthday, Ella! You're such a big girl." Finley stood up and spun around in a circle as he held her above him. She laughed and clapped as she shouted her brother's name, "Fin-Yee, Fin-Yee."

Clearing his throat as a warning, Owen advised firmly, "Finley, that's too much. You could get too dizzy and drop her. Sit down please."

Finley stopped spinning but continued to hold Ella over his head. Without looking at Owen, Finley explained in a good-humored tone, "I do this all the time, Dad."

"Sit. Down." Owen restated.

Finley kissed his sister and handed her back to Oliver, calmly stating, "Excuse me." He walked to the kitchen and poured himself some cereal.

Not wanting to correct him or argue in front of the kids, Amelia shot Owen a look of disappointment before suggesting, "Let's give Daddy a chance to wake up while we make breakfast. Ollie, will you put the dogs out?"

"Sure," Oliver smiled. "Want me to take a baby too?"

"I think Ella can walk to the kitchen on her own. Let's give her a chance to practice," Amelia responded. "Do you want to carry Gwen or shall I?"

"I'll hold Ella's hand," Oliver grinned as he encouraged his little sister to help him put the dogs outside.

Bronwyn smirked, switching her concentrated gaze between her mom and her dad. For once, she appeared to be speechless.

"Head on out to the kitchen, Red," Owen encouraged.

Crinkling up her nose as she slid off the bed, Bronwyn declared, "Red? Daddy, you never calleded me that before."

"Maybe I'll start," Owen teased as he pushed her bum toward the door.

Amelia informed Bronwyn, "I'll be right there, Bron. Finley can help if you need something."

* * *

She sat down on the edge of the bed, about to share her displeasure about how Owen handled Finley. Before she began speaking, Owen huffed, "Man, what's with his attitude? Apparently, Finley's forgotten that when I ask him to do something, he needs to do it. When you get to the kitchen, can you send him in here?"

"Owen…" Amelia responded. "I won't."

"What do you mean you won't?" Owen asked with a deeply perplexed expression. He had lowered his brows and grimaced. "Why not?"

Finley came around the corner to let Amelia know he was heading upstairs, but he stopped before he reached the doorway. He heard Amelia and Owen talking and he was curious to know the topic. Amelia looked into Owen's eyes, noticing that they hadn't returned fully from overseas. A hint of pain and emptiness seemed to be behind each eye as if the sadness and anger had not yet fully matured and moved on.

"Owen…he was respectful," Amelia mentioned. "Rather than argue, he excused himself in a very mature manner. Besides that, he _does _twirl Ella around like that all the time."

Owen began to speak, but Amelia gently held her hand up, "O, you can't come back and assume all the rules are the same and that nothing has changed. Let the kids get used to you being home before you start fretting about discipline and order. I'll handle the kids. You need to just enjoy them, and they need to just enjoy having their daddy home."

"He could've tripped or fell and hurt Ella," Owen insisted hesitantly.

Amelia raised her eyebrows at him and smiled, "Really? And the likelihood of that is what? .001%?"

With a tinge of tension, Owen proposed, "Help me, Amelia. Help me understand. I'm supposed to come back and be their dad, but I'm not supposed to parent? That's what I'm hearing."

"I don't want to argue about this, Owen," Amelia sighed.

"Since I've returned, you don't want to discuss anything, Amelia. Is that how it's going to be? Last night, you set our discussion aside and you're doing it again now. Did you think I was going to come home, and everything was going to unfold like a Happily Ever After storybook? You seem to want the dream of me being home, but not the inconvenient, moody, readjusting part of who I am here and now," Owen brooded.

The conversation had reached a point where Finley no longer wanted to overhear it. Discomfort, worry and self-blame swirled in his heart as he assumed his actions with Ella had started the fight. He quietly took a few steps back to sound as if he were further away and called out, "Mom?" as he approached the bedroom doorway.

Amelia, teary but not wanting to show it, answered without turning toward her son, "Yeah, Finley?"

"I… I was… umm," Finley realized Amelia needed him downstairs with the little kids, headache or not. His reason to summon his mom had disappeared as he heard his parents argue. Thinking up an option, he continued, "I was wondering if you wanted me to take Gwen and get her started on breakfast. We've got Ella in her chair and she's already eating."

"Thanks, Finley," Owen offered as he leaned a bit forward with Gwen. "That'd be a real help. Nice job, son."

Amelia turned away from Finley's sightline as he approached the bed. "Honey, Lynne should be here in just a few minutes. Can you keep the melee managed for just a bit?

"Sure," Finley chirped as he picked up his sister and smirked awkwardly at his dad.

Amelia added, "And can you close the door on your way out?"

As Finley closed the door, Owen snapped, "Now you're going to just ignore me?" Finley heard the arguing but could not decipher specific words.

With deliberate and thoughtful words, Amelia slowly declared, "Owen… I can only imagine what it's like to be you right now. You are a vibrant, strong, productive, and self-reliant man who has experienced a major shift of reality. That said, the moodiness and the snapping…I'm not sure how much I can handle."

Calmly but with sarcasm, Owen responded, "I didn't know you received a psych degree while I was away, Amelia. Thank you for your analysis of _my _experience."

"I was trying to be understanding, Owen," Amelia retorted calmly. After a brief pause, she snapped, "And, by the way, _your _experience? Have you stopped to consider that maybe the kids and I have also been affected by your decision to deploy? I have supported your decision even though I was ambivalent about it. I dedicated myself to appearing positive and happy, so the kids didn't implode with fear."

He raised his voice in frustration, adding, "So you'd like me to pretend to be happy and upbeat? Shall I portray a male version of Pollyanna while I sit here in pain and unable to walk? If that's what you need, Mia, tell me now so I can rise to your expectations."

Looking away with folded arms, Amelia stated slowly, "That's not what I meant, Owen."

"Would you please look at me when we're speaking?" Owen yelled with exasperation, unable to understand her previous sentence. "Can you at least do me the courtesy of facing me so I can hear you clearly?"

"The kids are going to hear all this," Amelia pointed out after a deep breath.

In the kitchen, the kids and Lynne were indeed overhearing the fight. Lynne suggested they all go upstairs to get dressed. Finley carried one twin and walked alongside Lynne, sharing, "He's different."

Lynne pursed her lips and squeezed Finley's hand, softly assuring him, "It's a hard time right now, Finley. When the twins nap, we can talk. I promise."

Amelia walked over to the bed and sat on an outer edge facing Owen. She stared at him with concern and sadness. He returned the gaze, his blue eyes blazing, and his brows heavily drawn down with simmering ire. Breaking the silence, Amelia admitted, "I… Owen, I don't know what to do…I can't walk on eggshells worried that my next sentence is going to provoke an angry response." She paused to sniffle and wipe her eyes, continuing, "I know we have some challenges awaiting us, Owen. We need to do this together. I can't face it all alone, and maybe you can't either."

"I'm not the bad guy here, Amelia," Owen countered with widened eyes and pursed lips.

"Oh, it's all my problem then?" Amelia asked incredulously. Her voice cracked with sadness.

Owen frowned. "Can I please be alone? I need some time by myself."

"Sure," Amelia answered. Owen had just expressed frustration with her because she didn't want to talk and now, he was asking to be left alone. His contradicting words were difficult to sort out. As she stepped out of the room, she reminded him, "Don't forget, Callie is coming by before she starts her shift."

"Right. Just have her come in when she arrives," Owen, already back on his side staring at the water, directed without looking at his wife.


	3. Run Silent, Run Deep

**_Chapter 3: Run Silent, Run Deep_**

Amelia stepped out of the room after Owen's request to be left alone. She climbed the stairs and pasted on her best fake smile as she approached Lynne and shared, "I'm going to hop in the shower. Owen's doctor is coming by. Can you show her to our downstairs bedroom when she arrives?"

"Absolutely," Lynne smiled as she looked up from pulling leggings onto Ella. "Everything ok?"

"Not really," Amelia responded without detail. Then she lied, "I might need to go in today. I'll let you know."

Lynne grinned and assured Amelia, "Not a problem. I'm here all day and can stay as late into the evening as needed."

Distracted, Amelia mentioned, "Owen cancelled the 24-hour care I arranged, but a physical therapy assistant will be here from 10-noon. You won't need to worry about him."

Amelia walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Looking at the bed, she was tempted to crawl in, hide under the blankets, and fall asleep. Forcing herself to plod through the day, she proceeded to the bathroom. While Amelia sat in the corner of the large tile shower and sobbed, she soaked in the hot water hoping it would drench away her confusion and pain.

* * *

Meanwhile, outside the melancholy scenes in each master suite, Lynne set up a Barbie Village for Bronwyn and the babies in the nursery. To explain why the Barbie shoes weren't anywhere to be seen (nor choked upon), Lynne shared that the city had just been declared barefoot-only. Creatively, she asked Bronwyn what other laws might rule in Barbie Village. Bronwyn quickly responded, "Rule Number One: Daddy's aren't allowed to go away to wars. Never ever ever."

The boys both chose to be alone. Since he had a headache, Finley had asked if he could go lie down in his room. Oliver, having checked out a library book about airplanes the previous school day, was snuggled in a bean bag chair reading.

The doorbell rang and Lynne went to answer the door. She asked Oliver to help keep an eye on the babies for just a minute while she ran downstairs. He obliged happily, entering the nursery and pretending to be Godzilla attacking Barbie Village. The girls giggled and screamed as Godzilla roared his way through the nursery.

Lynne opened the front door to find Callie standing before her. Bundling her coat around herself tightly and holding a med bag, Callie stated, "Hi. Lynne, right? I think we've met…or maybe I just hear so much praise about you that I feel like we know each other. I'm Callie Torres. Did anyone mention I'd be coming by?"

Lynne offered an embarrassed chuckle and invited Callie inside. "Yes, let me show you to Dr. Hunt. Then, I apologize, I need to hurry back upstairs to the children."

"Right. Yeah. Absolutely," Callie nodded as she surveyed the house. It pretty much looked the same as the last time she visited, but a peculiar vibe seemed to pervade the space. Lynne pointed to the door and encouraged Callie to go in.

* * *

Callie stood still for a moment before knocking on the door and took a deep breath. With exuberance and a wide smile, she approached Owen and announced, "I understand my boss is looking for the best ortho surgeon in the country."

Turning his head just enough to see her face, Owen grinned and said, "Callie…thanks for coming by."

"No problem," Callie shrugged, "this way, everyone will be jealous because I got to see you first." She hugged him and then sat on the edge of the bed. Entering into doctor mode, she asked, "So how's your pain? Let's start there." She placed a thermometer under Owen's tongue and removed her stethoscope from her bag. Then she wound a blood pressure cuff around Owen's left arm.

"About a 7 or 8," he shared with a thermometer under his tongue. She took his BP and removed the thermometer.

Jotting notes on a steno pad, Callie smirked and inquired, "140/95, temp of 100. Both high but within reason, considering. Tell me about your meds and their dosages."

Pointing across the room at his pack, Owen listed aloud, "Cipro, 500 mg, twice a day; Percocet 2.5 mg/325 mg, 1-2 pills every 6 hours; Flexeril 15mg, once a day. Ambien if needed, which it hasn't been. Motrin, Arnica cream for my side, 200 mg Vitamin C."

"And with that cocktail you're at a 7 or 8?" Callie, surprised, sought to confirm.

Owen explained, "I haven't had any meds since last night."

"That helps explain your BP. Why haven't you taken your meds?" Callie asked with confusion, "It's after 8 am. You could take the whole gambit if you needed to."

Owen grimaced, "First morning home, we're trying to find a routine. Kids come first. You know how it goes…"

Standing up and heading to the pack, Callie asked where the meds were and then brought them to Owen's bedside. "It's going to be challenging staying on schedule with the Percocet and Motrin if you don't have them within reach. Just sayin'…"

"Any chance you could prescribe a different pain med?" Owen requested.

Callie moved her chin down and toward her shoulder with a look of concern, "Are you having trouble tolerating these? Both tend to be very effective."

"I'm not sure how much you know about Amelia's past, but…" Owen began.

Callie interrupted and recollected, "Right…her drug of choice was oxy. Absolutely, I can get you started on something else. Since your pain is consistent, let's try a Fentanyl patch. That should provide consistent relief and avoids the whole pill issue, especially with so many little ones around here. Are you having any pain spikes?"

"No," Owen answered.

As she wrote down some notes, Callie shared, "Here's what we'll do. Continue with Cipro, 500 mg, twice a day; Ambien if needed. I'll have the hospital deliver two new meds. We'll try the Fentanyl patch around the clock and Celebrex twice a day. Start with 100 mg twice a day. If that doesn't do the trick, increase to 200 mg twice a day. The arnica and Vitamin C aren't going to hurt anything. I want you to take 2 Percocet and 2 Motrin now to deal with that 7-8 pain. Hopefully, it will also help that high BP until you have the new meds. Then discontinue Motrin, Percocet and Flexeril. I can take the remaining pain meds with me and have them destroyed if you like."

"Please," Owen requested.

"Now that we have meds sorted out, let's take a look at your wounds. Want me to check out the abdominal spot too since I'm here?" Callie asked as she slipped on a pair of gloves and set wound dressing supplies beside her. Owen shrugged and nodded.

"Let's see what we've got here…" Callie studiously commented as she pulled back the dressing on the abdominal wound. "Any tenderness here?" she asked as she palpated the area. "Or here?"

Owen squeezed his eyes closed but responded, "Not really."

"Umm…ok, Chief, if you want me to help you, you can't make a pain-filled face and then tell me it doesn't hurt. Fess up," she insisted.

"Very tender near the top. Lower area, not so much," Owen admitted.

"Let's get you in to see Gen Surg. Nothing looks amiss, but there might be something going on deep beneath the surface. You shouldn't be that tender," Callie ordered. "Now the fun stuff…let's look at that leg and knee," she smiled. With complete professionalism, she kept him draped with the bed sheet while exposing his right leg.

Callie began by wrapping her hands around Owen's upper leg and squeezing around it, advising, "Let me know when I hit a tender or painful spot." Working her way down, she was pleased to discover that the pain was localized to the area around the bone bruise. "You have too much swelling. Was your leg elevated last night while you slept?"

"No," Owen admitted.

"You need to change that," she ordered firmly but politely. "What do you know about the stitching on your knee?" The method intrigued her.

"Nothing. Why?" he inquired.

"Just an unfamiliar and captivating technique. It seems like the interior stitches are at two different depths and aren't right under the exterior ones. I'm going to call them up and find out their reasoning," Callie planned as she examined the area.

Amelia came in, fully dressed for work, with Oliver trailing behind her. "Callie, hi."

"Hey, Amelia. Your man is doing well. Have you seen the stitching on his knee?" Callie asked just barely looking up as she subtly covered Owen's wounds with a towel. "And remind me of your name, buddy."

Oliver extended his hand, but Callie motioned to her gloves with a smile and a shrug, "I'm Oliver. I'm second oldest." Owen was touched by Oliver's manners but curious to see him clinging to his baby blanket.

"Ok, Oliver Second Oldest, how old are you? And do cuts and blood gross you out?" Callie asked.

"Almost 9 and nope. Both my parents are doctors," Oliver shrugged as if Callie didn't know. Owen smiled and caught Callie's eye.

"Oliver, Dr. Torres needs to finish her exam and I need to get going. Can you go back upstairs?" Amelia urged.

"Where are you going?" Owen asked with sadness.

Pursing her lips, looking out the window, and sighing, Amelia stated, "I need to go in for a few hours. I won't be long." Amelia began to walk out of the room and called back, "I'll see you there, Callie."

"Yeah, ok," Callie answered as she prepared Owen's fresh dressings. Oliver was still standing beside his father and was now holding Owen's hand. Callie chuckled and looked at Oliver, "You wanna see? Sure, you can handle it?" Oliver nodded and smiled.

Callie removed the towel and explained the stitches and what was under them. She concluded with, "and see up here? Where it swells and kind of bulges out? That's where your dad's femur is bruised. The femur is the big bone at the top part of your leg. Did you know a bone can get bruised like your skin does?"

"Nuh-uh," Oliver answered with fascination as Callie began redressing Owen's wounds.

"Your dad is going to try a new medication that should help make that bulge go away, but here's one other way we can help it. Can you be my assistant and take care of him once I leave?" Callie asked. Oliver nodded with enthusiasm. She continued, "Great. We're going to put a bunch of pillows under Dad's leg before I leave, and your job is to make sure he keeps his leg there all day."

"I can do that," Oliver promised.

"Great. Maybe you can become a doctor like your dad someday, huh?" Callie prompted.

"No," Oliver proclaimed confidently. "I'm going to join the Navy and be a Blue Angels pilot. But maybe I could be a doctor if that doesn't work out."

Callie smiled broadly and responded, "Sounds like a great plan, Oliver." She turned to Owen as she took off her exam gloves and stated, "I'd like to see you at the hospital later today. Did anyone mention we've already scheduled you for PT at 3?"

"Yeah, it's on this list here with all my appointments," Owen confirmed as he held out a pad of paper.

"Good. I'll join you at PT to examine your gait and range of motion. Maybe I could even get you down to the cafeteria for a coffee afterward," Callie suggested.

"I can't," Owen grimaced, "I've got an appointment at 4:15 with Dr. Wyatt. But another time for sure."

Callie grinned, thinking about the many facets involved in Owen's healing. "Oliver, let's get those pillows arranged." Owen directed Oliver which pillows to fetch. Momentarily, Oliver returned with an overflowing armful of various sized pillows. After setting them up and elevating Owen's leg, Callie excused herself so she could get to work.

Oliver told Owen about the airplane book he had just checked out and asked if he could bring it down so they could read it together. Owen enthusiastically agreed and encouraged Oliver to go fetch it. As Oliver ran upstairs, Owen grabbed his cell phone and attempted to call Amelia. His call, because she saw it and pressed the 'ignore' button, went directly to voicemail. "Mia?" his message began with a hint of sadness, "Uh…call me. Just a little surprised you have to go in on Ella's birthday and my first day back. Love you…call me."


	4. Runaway Wife

**_Chapter 4: Runaway Wife_**

Amelia approached the hospital and went inside without listening to Owen's message. Running into Derek in the Main Lobby as she headed to the Attendings' Lounge, Amelia tried to hide her look of disappointment.

"Amy? What are you doing here?" Derek asked with concern as he set his hand on her shoulder.

She smirked and offered with a sly and kidding tone, "Thought it'd be a great time to hide out and catch up on some charting. But, now…well, my boss has spotted me."

Derek stepped in front of his sister and stopped, causing her to almost walk directly into him. "What's going on?" he asked seriously as his eyes bore into hers.

Amelia moved her brows toward her nose and smiled a crooked smile, feigning confusion, "Nothing."

"Come here," Derek insisted as he gently grasped her arm and led her into a meeting room.

Perturbed and upset that her brother had spotted her, Amelia sighed, "Derek, I have a lot to do."

"It's your husband's first day home from a tour of duty and it's your baby's first birthday. Why the hell are you here?" Derek inquired as he folded his arms and stood a couple feet from the door.

"I told you…nothing. Owen and the kids are reconnecting and we're not celebrating Ella's birthday until the party. I wanted to sneak in and catch up on some charting while I had a chance. I'm backlogged," Amelia lied.

"No, you're not. I'm the head of your department. I get a report every day that tells me which physicians have charts backed up. What are you running from, Amelia?" Derek prodded.

Indignant, even though Derek's guess was spot on, Amelia tried to worm her way out of the conversation. Steadily she stated, "I appreciate your concern. I really do, but I need to check on a patient." She attempted to walk around her brother so she could open the door.

He leaned back on it and asked, "Which patient?"

"What?!" Amelia snapped.

"I'm your boss and I want to know which patient you're going to examine," Derek declared in a matter-of-fact manner.

Amelia huffed and looked up at her brother. "I need to step out. Please move," she said in a measured way before biting her bottom lip.

"No," Derek smirked. "Why…are…you... running, Amelia?" Derek asked slowly once again, knowing his sister well enough to know his hunch was correct.

Amelia reached for the door handle and grabbed it even though Derek was leaning on it. "We're not little kids anymore, Derek. You can't force me to stay somewhere just because you're bigger and stronger." Her tone was beginning to sound anxious.

Without moving, Derek mused aloud, "I was thinking of stopping by with some lunch for Owen later. What do you suppose he'd like to eat?"

Amelia stood to Derek's side, still holding the handle. She did not respond.

"Maybe I'll call him up," Derek suggested as he pulled out his phone and dialed Owen's cell.

"Do whatever you need to do, but let me through this damn door," Amelia hissed as she called his bluff.

"Hey! Owen. Welcome back. How are you?" Derek exclaimed as Amelia looked away with folded arms and deep breaths. The room was quiet as Owen responded with a teasing tone that was actually very serious, _I'm good. Really good. Hey, what's the big idea calling my wife in on my first day back? Are you that desperate to fill the surgery board?_

"Me? I didn't call her in?" Derek stated. "She is here though. In fact, she's right here beside me. You want to talk to her?" Owen said yes and Amelia grabbed the phone with the angriest look of contempt Derek had seen in ages. He sat down in a chair and grinned, providing an "I told you so" big brother visage.

"Hey, O. Callie still there? Did everything check out?" Amelia began as if there were no problems.

"Why are you there?" Owen asked flatly. "Derek just told me he didn't call you in."

"Yep," Amelia quipped in her familiar manner, "Saw your message on my phone. Funny – I was just about to return your call."

"What's going on, Mia?" Owen sighed.

"Hey, you know what? My brother is extremely cheap, and I'll bet he has one of those so-many-minutes-a-month cell plans. I'll call you right back on my phone, Owen. I don't want to use up all Derek's minutes. Love you." Amelia hung up the phone and, not caring if she broke it, threw it down onto the conference table. "Thanks a lot, you ass."

As she grasped the door handle, Derek pointed out, "I only told the truth, Amy. What about you?"

She walked out of the room and stormed up to an on-call room. Once she locked the door, she broke down and began screaming and sobbing into a pillow.

Unbeknownst to Amelia, Karev was asleep when she entered the room. He woke up slightly when she slammed and locked the door but tried to go back to sleep. When he heard her crying, he thought to himself, _Well, crap. I can't stretch out and sleep while she's falling apart, and I can't sneak out without her seeing me._

From a top bunk, he gently asked, "Hey, Shepherd-Hunt, everything ok?" He sat up and then slid down onto the floor, approaching her and putting an arm around her awkwardly. She fell into his body and continued sobbing. Alex grimaced and held her, praying his pager would sound.

After she'd been sobbing for five full minutes, Alex whispered, "Hey, what could be that bad, huh? Your husband is home. He's safe. He survived. You've got great kids and a sweet house. And you're a freakin' neurosurgeon." He tried to tease her a little as he grasped her tightly and loosened his grip a few rounds.

Amelia kept her head resting on Alex's shoulder, but turned to wipe her tears. "I'm sorry…I'm really sorry. I didn't know you were in here. Alex, you're being incredibly kind."

"What else would I do?" he asked with shock. "You wanna talk about it? If you don't, that's fine. Or I could go find someone you do want to talk to…like, I dunno, your brother or someone."

"I don't want to talk to my brother," Amelia sputtered with a mixture of laughter and disgust. "He is among the last people I want to see."

"Umm…ok." Alex nodded, not sure what else to say or do. Alex and Amelia were colleagues but not necessarily close friends. He didn't know how to read her or what to say that would help. "Well, can I do anything to help?"

Amelia wrapped her arms around her knees and looked forward, "I'm expecting way too much. Every time he says anything, I over-analyze it. I've scrutinized his parenting like a Mama Bear…" her voice trailed off.

Alex, his arm still around her shoulders, nodded gently, "Hmmm…why?"

Looking up at Alex with surprise, Amelia echoed, "Why?"

"Yeah, why are you doing that to him and to yourself?" Alex wondered aloud.

Her lips began to quiver, and she started to cry again. Alex squeezed her closer and offered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Really."

"It wasn't you," Amelia chuckled. "I know why…I just don't want to say it aloud."

"Oh, good," Alex nodded with relief. For once, he hadn't been the source of tears in his midst. Alex wanted to assure her she could trust him if she wanted to unload, but he didn't want to offer some mamby pamby platitude. Instead, he fumbled as he half-suggested, half-kidded, "I'm… uh… I'm a doctor. If you want, you can be my patient for a few minutes. Then anything you tell me is bound by confidentiality and all that."

With a deadly serious tone and little affect in her voice, Amelia disclosed, "I hate him for coming back hurt."

Alex thought to himself, _Holy crap. Where's psych when you need them?! What do I say to that?! What would Mer say…?_

Amelia continued with the same tone, "I love him. I will always love him. I used to love our life together. Now, my whole life is turned upside down. I'm pregnant, I'm running a home, raising five kids and now dealing with a husband who can't walk or care for himself. I'm furious, Alex. I'm absolutely furious and it scares the hell out of me."

After pausing about 15 seconds, Alex celebrated lightly, "Dude, you're pregnant? Congratulations."

Amelia looked down and without emotion confirmed, "Yeah. Wish I could be excited about it. Instead, it just feels like one more burden in an already overly burdened life. Then, when I feel like that, I end up hating myself and feeling like the most selfish person and the worst mother in the world."

"Dude, that's a lot to carry around. Shepherd-Hunt, I think you need a shrink," Alex named the need.

Amelia laughed and looked at Alex, "Yeah…yes, I do. A whole cadre of them."

"So where are you supposed to be? Seems strange you're here on his first day back," Alex declared.

"I guess I'm supposed to be at home, celebrating our daughter's birthday and hanging around my husband," Amelia admitted.

"But you're here…" Alex noted.

"I'm here…" Amelia echoed. "I'm here because when things get tough, I panic, and I run. I'm here because I froze and panicked about not knowing what to do."

"If I were Owen, hearing that would probably be helpful," Alex mused.

Amelia hugged Alex, wiped her eyes again, and stood up. "Thanks, Alex."

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Karev shrugged. "Take care, ok? Be nice to yourself."

Amelia looked back and smiled, thinking that sometimes the best advice comes from those who also need to hear the same words.

* * *

When Amelia drove into the garage and walked into the house, she was happily shocked to see Owen sitting on one portion of the couch while the kids jumped on the other couch cushions that they'd strewn all over the floor. Even the twins were playing as they crawled around hitting the cushions.

Everyone was laughing so loudly that nobody heard Amelia come in. She walked to the kitchen and said hello to Lynne, who was making lunch. Amelia poured herself a glass of water as she watched the kids explode with joy. From her left, she heard Owen call out, "Hey, Mia."

She looked over and smiled, speaking in a regular voice that he couldn't hear, "Hi."

Owen patted the cushion next to him and moved his head to the side to beckon her over. She walked over and sat down on the edge of the cushion, focusing on the kids and their frenzy as she set her water on the coffee table. Enveloping her in his grasp, Owen pulled her back to him and kissed her cheek. He leaned his head against hers and offered, "I'm glad you're home."

She started to tear up and Owen looked at her with tender concern, "Mia…what's up?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"What do you mean? You don't have anything to be sorry about as far as I'm concerned." He reassured her.

She rested back on his arm, looking out at the water, as she continued, "I lied, Owen. I'm sorry. I didn't need to go in. I ran. I panicked and I froze, and I ran."

"I know," Owen nodded confidently. Amelia leaned forward and looked at him with curiosity. Owen added, "Amelia, I know you. I've seen you tapped out before. We can talk about it later – we'll sort everything out. For now, let's just hold one another and watch this wayward brood of ragamuffins destroy our couch cushions."


	5. Owen's Appointments

**_Chapter 5: Owen's Appointment_**

After lunch, Owen fell asleep on the couch. Amelia smiled as she placed a blanket over him and whispered to Bronwyn and Oliver, "You guys need to find somewhere else to play. Daddy's sleeping." Out of habit, Oliver headed to the "playroom," aka the temporary master bedroom. "Ollie," Amelia pointed out, "if you watch TV in here or play in here, the sound will probably carry to the other room and wake up Daddy."

Oliver stood up and headed upstairs. Lynne saw him in the hallway and whispered, "Finley and the babies are all asleep up here, sweetie. Make sure you're quiet." No matter where he went in the house, Oliver was told to watch his volume. He sighed with disappointment and asked if he could play outside with the dogs. After reminding him of the rules about staying away from the water and insisting he put on a heavy coat, Lynne shoo'ed him outside. The dogs couldn't have been more thrilled to welcome their playmate into an exuberant game that mixed chasing and fetching.

While Lynne remained upstairs catching up on the children's laundry, Bronwyn asked Amelia if she could nap with her daddy. In the last couple days, Bronwyn occasionally sucked her thumb or spoke in baby talk. Amelia had read that when military parents returned, regression in the 3-6-year-old age group was a possibility.

Speaking with a little voice, Bronwyn pulled on Amelia's shirt and sought her attention, "Mama…can me take nappy with Dada?"

The baby talk bugged the hell out of Amelia, but she knew that correcting it wouldn't help. She knelt down and looked Bronwyn in the eye, "Yes, you can. Bronwyn. Here's the deal: if you lie down with Daddy, you need to sleep. If you wiggle around or come close to waking him up, you'll nap in your own bed instead."

Sucking her thumb, Bronwyn nodded her head and toddled over to the couch. Looking back at Amelia with feigned helplessness, Bronwyn lifted her arms signaling she needed Amelia to lift her up and place her beside Owen.

Amelia was willing to play along to a degree but being signaled to pick up a nearly 5-year-old little girl was her limit. "You can crawl up on the couch by yourself, Bronwyn. Then snuggle in and close your eyes." After a dramatic sigh, Bronwyn squirmed under the blanket next to Owen. Periodically, she opened her eyes and played with her hands or surveyed the room. Her eyes became heavy and Bronwyn dozed off.

* * *

At 2:45, Owen woke up on his own to a silent house. Straining, he could hear the dryer running a load of clothes and Oliver talking to the dogs in the garage. He smiled as he glanced at the little red head beside him and stroked her hair. She was sucking her thumb as she slept. Owen wondered when that had begun – he'd never seen Bronwyn do that.

As she descended the stairs, Amelia whispered with a smile, "Hey… I was just going to come wake you up for PT."

Owen smiled and nodded his head to the side to encourage Amelia to approach him. "How long has this been going on?" he asked curiously as he motioned toward Bronwyn.

"Since we knew you were injured. Someone gave me a handout along the way that said it's normal to see regression in her age group at this point in deployment. She also baby talks sometimes – have you heard that yet?" Amelia shrugged. "Ella's reaction to you is also within those bounds as well as Finley's irritability and fighting with Oliver. He's been isolating and having a lot of headaches too. And Mr. Oliver? He's following the listing to the letter: increased whininess, occasional aggressive behavior, focusing on big events you've missed and now won't miss, and increasingly clingy. They're all adjusting and trying to make sense out of changes that are beyond conscious comprehension. All three older kids have had challenges with sleep since you left."

"At least Gwen's rolling with the punches, huh?" Owen chuckled.

"Yes," Amelia grinned, "Although maybe that explains the PT behavior… who knows?"

Owen nodded with a slight grimace, "Anything else I should expect?"

"I'll have to find the paper. The only other one I can remember, which I'm praying to God pertains to older teens only, is promiscuity and drug and alcohol use," Amelia recalled.

"Oh," Owen responded softly. "That'd be quite the set of issues. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that." He paused then asked, "How often is Naomi in the scene nowadays?"

Amelia smiled and raised her eyes toward her eyebrows, "Well… they're still nuts about each other. She comes over here, he hangs out at her house, she goes to his soccer games and practices, he stays at the library to help her with homework. Most I've seen is hand holding, hugging, and peck on the cheek kissing."

"Hmm…" Owen responded without words, recalling the conversation he and Finley had shared weeks ago. "I was a 13-year-old boy once. I think I'll talk with him about it and set some clear expectations."

"On that note…" Amelia teased, "PT has some clear expectations of you. Are you ready to head out? I thought we could take my car. The lower height will probably be easier for you."

Owen smiled and responded, "Thanks, Mia. I hadn't thought of that. Can you bring my walker around? I'm going to pee, brush my teeth, and throw on my shoes, then I'll be ready." He slowly walked to the bathroom and then the bedroom. Once again coming face to face with his dependence, Owen called out and asked Amelia to help him with his shoes.

* * *

As Owen pushed his wheelchair through the hospital hallways on his way to PT, nearly every staff member in his path stopped to welcome him back. He was both humbled and embarrassed by the attention, although he sincerely appreciated everyone's kind words. When he and Amelia entered the PT room, Bill, his new therapist, ordered warmly, "Hi, Dr. Hunt. Park that wheelchair in the corner. We won't be needing it. Then walk on over here."

"Do you want me to stay or go?" Amelia asked Owen.

He grinned and assured her, "No. Stay. Please, stay." He squeezed her hand and then lifted himself from chair to walker.

"Not using crutches yet, Dr. Hunt?" Bill inquired.

"No, Bill. The walker is hard enough at this point. And if we're going to be working closely together, you might as well call me Owen," Owen grumbled.

"You got it, boss," Bill laughed. "So, Dr. Torres will be down here any minute to observe your gait. Let's start over here and assess your range of motion while we wait. You've probably already had this done at least 10 times, huh?"

"Yep," Owen confirmed with a hint of boredom.

"I may or may not assess the same motions. With your particular injuries, we had to craft a unique plan, so we don't over-stress the femur while not over-resting the patella. Now, let's start with side to side. Lie down, lift your right leg just above your left and show me how far to the left and right you can swing it," Bill directed.

Owen's range side to side was intact but weak, which was not unexpected. Next Bill had him raise his leg as high as possible without using his hands or any assistance. As Owen's leg ascended, Callie walked in. She approached Owen as she watched his leg begin to shake, then reached out and pressed just under his knee, "Now put your hands between here and your ankle and keep going. You can use your arms to pull the leg back further."

"Hi, Callie," Owen grunted as he worked, attempted to point out she hadn't greeted him before ordering him to try something.

"Yeah, yeah, save the pleasantries for outside PT. You'll need your strength in here," she joked. "Can you pull any farther?"

"No," Owen gasped.

"Hmm…let's see how long you can hold it there then," she suggested. Owen's arms and leg began to shake, so Callie summoned Bill and told Owen, "Now we're going to see how far _we _can move it before the pain is too much. Holler out. We'll start slow… just holding your leg in place here, then incrementally bringing it closer and closer to your head."

"Argh! That's good," Owen sputtered.

"No, it's not. Bill, hold it there and then try more movement," Callie directed.

Grunting, Owen asked, "What do you mean, 'no, it's not'?"

"I want to see you go further at this point. You're ok," Callie shrugged.

"I couldn't move this far before I was shot," Owen grumbled.

"Oh, you could too," Callie flirted. "Ok, Bill, really slow now…"

Owen yelled out in pain, "You're breaking me."

"Hold it there," Callie ordered. "What's breaking, Owen? What's stopping you?"

"My semimembranosus muscle," Owen groaned.

"As in your hamstrings, show off?" Callie teased.

"No," Owen corrected her slowly, "Not all three in the hamstring group. Just the semimembranosus."

Callie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, easy fix. Bill will keep holding your leg while you try to rotate your ankle in circles. We'll go both clockwise and counter-clockwise so take your pick and start there," Callie stated.

"I hate you," Owen grunted.

"Oh, stop, you do not," Callie laughed as she shook her head. She grabbed his foot and caused him to make larger circles. "Now, see, when you do that, the muscles in your ass – as you medically referred to them – and your semimembranosus muscle relax. Bill, did you already go side to side?"

Bill nodded, "Yep. He's solid, great angles but needs to build strength. We haven't taken this position side to side yet."

"Ok, Owen, Bill's going to slowly bring your leg so it's pointing straight up at the ceiling. We'll rest it there and then measure side to side motion," Callie informed Owen.

As Bill worked on that far less painful process, Callie greeted Amelia and mumbled through a smile, "He's kind of a whiner, huh?" Amelia smiled like the Cheshire Cat as Callie continued, "You'll need to help him with these at home. You might be better off having the kids help as long as they won't get too pushy and understand the incremental movement – he'll probably be kinder to them than you."

The two women watched as Bill attempted to move Owen's leg back from center and toward his face. "See," Callie observed aloud, "he was hollering by that point earlier. Now look at how far he's taking it. He's doing great, but we're going to keep pushing him."

After a brief break and some water, Callie called Owen up to the parallel bars. "I actually want you to start with what you've been doing – left leg then both arms, no weight bearing on the right leg. Go whatever speed feels best for you." She switched her gaze between Owen's leg and Bill's eyes as Owen walked. Behind Owen, Bill nodded affirmatively.

"Ok, stop," Callie called out when Owen made it to the end of the bars. "That was excellent. Have you turned around on these yet or should we show you how?"

"I've done it," Owen grunted as he maneuvered his body and turned around. "Now what?"

"We're going to bear just a touch of weight on the right leg. It's an inexact science but I want you to estimate using the leg at about 15%. Just take one step and stop," she ordered.

Owen's face turned various shades of red as his right leg felt pressure for the first time in over a week. He clenched his teeth as tears fell from his eyes. Callie instructed him not to clench because it only makes things worse. Instead, she ordered him to breathe through the pain with deep and slow breaths.

"Now when you step with your left leg, you're going to shift back 100% of the weight bearing to your arms. Nothing, no weight bearing at all on the right leg when it's on the ground alone. This step will be a breeze," she predicted.

They repeated this routine over and over, going the span of the bars multiple times. The PT session ended with an ice massage, which felt sublime after all the hard work. Amelia stood beside him and chatted reassuringly with him as he stretched out and rested while the ice worked its magic.

* * *

At the end of the session, Bill quickly reviewed how to use the crutches and encouraged Owen to begin trying to use them at home. Callie strongly suggested the wheelchair stay behind, but Owen refused. They negotiated a deal where he promised to use the chair as little as possible, try to begin the transition to the walker, and even try the crutches.

As Amelia walked alongside him, Owen pushed himself toward Dr. Wyatt's office. "Can you, uh… can you stay for this too? Maybe we can talk some things out…" he asked her. Dr. Wyatt was a therapist who had treated Owen previously.

Amelia's past experiences with therapy were mostly tied to her addiction or Ryan's death. Therapy was pretty much the last place she wanted to spend the next hour. Even so, she heard her voice saying, "Sure," as the rest of her resisted.

The couple walked in and Dr. Wyatt extended her hand to Amelia, "You must be Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. It's wonderful to meet you."

Amelia feeling and looking like a kid sent to the principal's office grinned uncomfortably and responded flatly, "Same. Thanks. You can call me Amelia." Dr. Wyatt mentally noted the hesitation, yet found it promising that Owen had asked Amelia to come with him.

"So…Owen. It's been awhile. I've read the report from Marcus in San Antonio. You did some intense work with him in a short amount of time," Dr. Wyatt summarized. Amelia, willing to be a supportive present, but not particularly comfortable if Owen was planning some sort of impromptu marital therapy session, became distracted by the tchotchkes strewn around the office.

"Yeah, we did. He … uh… had a way of stretching me without breaking me," Owen admitted with an awkward grin.

"Amelia, has Owen had a chance to share his experiences of therapy in San Antonio with you?" Dr. Wyatt prodded; fairly certain he had not done so.

Amelia brought her attention back to the moment, "I'm sorry?"

"She asked if I'd shared details of my therapy in San Antonio with you," Owen offered as he grinned at Amy. He turned toward Dr. Wyatt and answered on Amelia's behalf, "No. No, I haven't. I just got back. It's been pretty busy with 5 kids, PT, life and re-entry."

Dr. Wyatt nodded and sat back in her chair, "How is re-entry going?"

"Mostly up, but a little up and down," Owen offered. "I'm having a tough time coming back to being a Dad…trying to navigate how firm to be, learning what's changed since I've been gone, dealing with the kids' and their challenges."

"Amelia? How do you feel it's going?"

Pulling her feet onto the edge of the chair and her knees toward her chest, Amelia wrapped her arms around her legs. "Umm… well, I'd agree with Owen."

"But how are _you _doing with Owen's return?"

"Oh…me? Fine," Amelia shrugged and lifted her eyes toward her brows. "Yeah, good, I guess." She chuckled nervously and looked away, "I mean, I'm not using or anything. No relapses. I'm getting by."

Dr. Wyatt spotted Owen lowering his chin and glancing at Amelia with concern. He interjected, "Mia? What's going on?"

Amelia widened her eyes and lied, "Nothing." She added in a pasted-on smile and repeated herself, "Nothing at all."

"She left the house this morning and came to the hospital to hide," Owen offered with a tinge of frustration.

"I think that's my story to tell, Owen," Amelia responded with a look of angst.

"It happened to me, too, Mia. Can I share my viewpoint?" Owen asked flatly.

"I guess," she murmured with contempt.

"Amelia, would you rather Owen not share the story or his view?" Dr. Wyatt asked gently.

Looking perturbed, Amelia responded, "I… I didn't know I was part of this session until we reached your office. Then I thought I was here as moral support. Nothing personal, but we just met, Dr. Wyatt. You don't know me; I don't know you. I'm not the type to just emotionally eviscerate all that I hold deep inside with someone I just met."

Owen slowly closed his eyes and folded his arms. As he reopened his eyes, he offered gently, "Amelia, you're right. I'm sorry. I… I didn't think this through. I apologize."

"I think it's best if I step out," Amelia suggested with a smirk. She turned to Owen and insisted, "And, for the record, I'm not running away or hiding, Owen. I'm removing myself from a situation that feels like a trap even though I'm absolutely positive that wasn't your intent." Extending her hand, Amelia continued, "Pleasure meeting you. I apologize that our time together was so awkward."

"You're welcome here anytime, Amelia. I admire you doing what you need to do for yourself," Dr. Wyatt gently shared with a soft grin.

Amelia looked toward Owen and kindly informed him, "I'll be in the cafeteria when you're done."

Grinning but looking sad, Owen nodded, "Ok, Mia."

"Well, talk to me about what just happened, Owen…" Dr. Wyatt proposed when the door was closed.

"Hell, I don't know. She's right. I just kind of sprung an invitation on her to join us. I was hoping to work out the disagreements we've had since I've been back, but I didn't tell her that," Owen spewed.

"It sounds like your intention was to take care of her, but you ended up making decisions on her behalf," Dr. Wyatt observed.

"I guess so. That's kind of my default," Owen acknowledged before redirecting the conversation, "Since I've been back, it's like our synergy is gone. One of us says something and the other misinterprets it and reacts. I try to parent, and she scrutinizes my words or choices. If I were to choose one word to describe our relationship right now, it'd be 'prickly.'"

"Have you reconnected sexually?" Dr. Wyatt asked.

"Yeah. Once in the hospital right after everything and then just this morning," Owen disclosed.

"Good," Dr. Wyatt affirmed. "So what do you suppose is behind the tension?"

"For me, I guess I'm pissed…confused…trying to figure out my identity within the family. I'm not coming back as me. I'm some dependent, debilitated, and hurting version of me. I don't get to come back and play soccer with the boys or lay on the floor and play Barbies with Bronwyn. Rocking the twins or carrying them around isn't an option. How am I supposed to reintegrate when I can't do a damn thing?" Owen searched.

"What's behind Amelia's tension?" Dr. Wyatt asked. "We can't know for sure without asking her, but I'm curious if you have any hunches."

"Who knows," Owen sighed as he ran his hand through his stubbly, short hair. He chuckled, saying, "Well, I know she hates my hair. She doesn't like that I shaved it, but that's not major. Before I left, she told me that, as a colleague, she supported me, but that, as a wife, she couldn't possibly understand how I could choose to go overseas for another tour. It was difficult for her to get in the way of what I felt called to do, she deeply wanted to support me. But, as a wife and mom, I think she was pretty damn furious with me."

Dr. Wyatt noted the time and grinned, "It sounds like you have some things to discuss with Amelia tonight. I'll see you again on Monday?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded as he pursed his lips. "Thanks."


	6. It Takes Times

**_Chapter 6: It Takes Time_**

While Owen completed his therapy session with Dr. Wyatt, Amelia grabbed a snack in the cafeteria. She hoped to be alone and decompress as she sat in the corner flipping through an outdated People magazine. Grabbing another apple slice, Amelia nibbled it in tiny bites and savored each one. Not having to share her food with anyone under 18 was a treat.

"Hey, compadre, how's the homecoming?" Jackson asked as he put his hand on Amelia's shoulder and kissed her cheek.

Amelia beamed. Jackson understood her. They seemed to speak the same language. With a wide smile, she held up an apple slice and asked, "Care to join me?"

Grabbing the snack, Jackson smiled and sat down. As he bit into the slice, he inquired with a knowing tone, "So… really… how's it going?"

She looked directly into his eyes and recounted in a droll tone, "Let's see… he's been home just shy of 24 hours. In that time, I think we've argued 2 or 3 times, he's snapped at the kids here and there, we had sex and actually enjoyed one another, and I watched him suffer through a painful PT session. I wondered how he would possibly get out of the rig last night, pretended to need to come here this morning and ended up sobbing in an on-call room and waking up Karev, and, somehow, and I ended up hoodwinked into a therapy session. But, wait, there's more. We also chatted briefly about the kids and how the deployment has led to Oliver re-adopting his baby blanket, caused Bronwyn to speak in baby talk, made Ella forget her Daddy, and compelled Finley to vacillate between sneering, isolation, headaches, and going out of his way to be helpful. Oh, and it's Ella's first birthday today."

"Geez…" Jackson commented as he grabbed an apple slice off Amelia's tray.

Amelia grimaced and announced with dry sarcasm, "Happy freakin' reunification. Hurrah!"

Jackson laughed softly and put his hand on Amelia's lower arm. "Can I say something?"

"Of course," Amelia nodded.

"It's been less than 24 hours. Less than one full day. Cut yourselves some slack and don't try to catch up or fix what feels broken in a day," Jackson offered as his deep eyes bored into Amelia's. "And one more piece of advice from someone who's been there: it takes time."

Amelia stretched out her neck as she wound it from one shoulder to another. "Well… that sucks, Jackson. That just sucks." They caught each other's glance and broke into hysterical laughter.

"Oh, yeah? My advice sucks, huh?" Jackson inquired through his continuing laughter and patted her arm where his hand remained. Their laughter began to ebb and Amelia looked down at the table. A comfortable silence rolled in.

"It's not your advice that sucks. It's the truth within it," Amelia muttered as she continued looking at the table but handed Jackson an apple slice.

"I know, Amy," Jackson responded using the name she'd invited him to use, "I know…"

"Our symbiosis has fallen flat. We misunderstand each other's words. My Owen didn't return, some other guy… some physically and maybe emotionally wounded guy took his place. That guy is unpredictable… his eyes seem partially vacant. And, honestly, I'm absolutely furious that he came home injured," Amelia disclosed.

"Of course, you are," Jackson affirmed with deep empathy as he internally recalled seeing those injuries take place. Nobody else would understand and affirm her anger about Owen's injuries. To most people, such a statement would sound horrible. But Jackson understood.

Amelia looked up from the table and caught Jackson's eyes. Her bottom lip, once again, was quivering and her eyes were glistening with unfallen tears. She took a deep breath and said softly, "And I'm really tired of crying." A smile followed her melancholy statement, and Jackson pursed his lips in response.

He whispered, "I know. I really, really know. And I'm so sorry you're hurting." He removed his hand from her arm, leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his neck. "And, you're right. It sucks."

Amelia smiled gently and whispered, "Yeah…" The two sat there in silence as they finished the other snacks on the tray.

About 3 minutes later, Owen pushed himself toward them. His jubilant voice celebrated, "Mia!"

Amy looked up and met Owen's smile, "Hi, Owen. How did everything go?" She gritted her teeth and opened her lips expressing embarrassed regret.

"No worries, really," Owen responded with sincerity. Owen reached out and patted Jackson on the back, "Avery, how are you? How's April?"

"She's good. We're good," Jackson nodded. "It's great to see you, Hunt. You're looking great."

"And probably looking a helluva lot better than last time you saw me, huh?" Owen chuckled as Jackson laughed awkwardly.

"Huh?" Amelia asked with utter confusion.

Owen reciprocated with a perplexed expression, attempting to remind her, "Last time he saw me…"

"Umm…" Amelia gazed back and forth at the two men before her.

"Amy, remember, I was speaking with April when the soldiers invaded. I witnessed Owen being thrown down, kicked, and shot. The chaplain and I, when we came over…we told you all that," Jackson explained gently. Owen looked at Jackson curiously, having heard him refer to his wife as 'Amy.'

"Oh, yeah," Amelia acted as if she recalled that detail. She smirked, "My memory of that day is kind of a blur."

Owen reached over and grasped Amelia's hand, "We should probably get going if we're going to make it home for dinner."

Still a little foggy as she tried to remember the details of the day Owen was hurt, Amelia offered a distracted response, "Yeah…yeah, we should."

"Hey, Avery," Owen began. "Speaking of dinner, why don't you and April come by for dinner? Wednesday? Are you both free on Wednesday?"

"We are," Jackson confirmed. "That would be great. What shall we bring?"

"Just yourselves. We'll see you around 5 – 5:30?" Owen invited.

* * *

Once Amelia and Owen were well on their way home, Owen reached over and turned down the NPR report blaring through the speakers. Glancing over at him, Amelia smirked.

With complete curiosity and not angrily, Owen inquired, "So, seems like you and Jackson… you guys spent some time together while April and I were away."

"We did," Amelia admitted without hesitation. "He came over for dinner now and then. Played ball with the boys... roughhoused with the kids… They loved the man energy and presence."

"Oh," Owen responded flatly.

"Is that a problem?" Amelia asked curiously.

"No. No problem. I imagine the kids enjoyed it," Owen responded sincerely. "You and he probably had a great deal in common with your spouses both away in the field."

"Absolutely," Amy confirmed innocently. "We encouraged one another. Had some great chats."

"Yeah," Owen responded flatly. "I heard him call you Amy."

"I invited him into the club," Amelia quipped with a light giggle and a wink. "We just kind of… I dunno… just kind of got each other, you know?" Owen wanted to be completely accepting about Amelia's choice to invite Jackson to use the nickname that was limited to a select few. After all, it was _her_ nickname. He attempted to talk himself out of feeling sad or beguiled. Sharing the privilege with Derek was no problem – Derek was her brother, he was family. Addison was like a sister to her and had been her sister-in-law at a crucial time in Amelia's life. Her dad, of course, had coined the name. But Jackson? Extending the 'club,' as she called it, to friends made Owen a little uneasy. Yet, Owen disliked feeling that way.

He reached over and set his hand on Amelia's knee, adding sadly, "Kind of like we used to before all this. Synergy. We had synergy then."

Amelia grimaced but didn't take her eyes off the road as she repeated Jackson's words, "We did, and we will again. It hasn't even been 24 hours, Owen. This all takes time."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Owen responded with reassurance. "It's been an intense 24 hours. I'm sorry for my part in that. We should find a way to escape for a day or two…just the two of us. Or, are you still nursing? We could take the twins. That actually could be fun."

Amelia drove through their gate and toward the house and beamed, "I'd really love that, Owen. I really would. Let's figure out details after dinner."

Thrilled with Amelia's response, Owen smiled widely, "Great. Yeah, let's do it."

* * *

The family gathered around the table for dinner shortly after Owen and Amelia returned home. Like in the past and without anyone's conscious prompting, Owen sat at the head of the table with Amelia to his left. Lynne was taking the evening off, figuring the family should be by themselves on Owen's first night home. The twins were on either side of Amelia with Finley next to Ella. Oliver and Bronwyn sat with their backs to the window with Bronwyn to Owen's right.

With the exception of the twins, who escaped the broccoli, everyone had a full plate of spaghetti, cheese bread, and broccoli before them. As they began to eat, Owen suggested a conversation starter, "Let's share highs and lows. I'll start, unless someone else wants to start."

"I'll start," Oliver volunteered. "My high was more than one thing: Playing with the dogs, snuggling with Dad and the babies this morning, and reading my library book about airplanes. My low… well, I was kind of lonely when everyone but me was taking a nap, but the dogs kept me company, so it turned out ok."

"My turn! My turn!" Bronwyn called out. "My highs were singing my new song this morning, taking a cuddly nap with Dada on the couch, and playing Barbies with Lynne and the twins."

Everyone kept their gaze on Bronwyn, who looked around wondering why. "A low, Bron, do you have a low?" Finley groaned.

"Oh!" Bronwyn exclaimed, "My low was when Mama no pick me up to put me on couch." She concluded the sentence with an attention-seeking pout that was ignored.

"Finley? Do you want to go next?" Owen asked his eldest.

"No, not really," Finley grumbled.

Owen smiled and offered, "Ok, I'll go next. My high," he looked at Amelia with a sly grin, "was waking up and being home. I missed you all so much and I'm happy to be back. My low was during physical therapy when I had to do one exercise that really, really hurt. Mia?"

"I think I had more than one high today too," Amelia began as she stroked Owen's left leg under the table. "My highs were waking up next to Daddy, when Finley came to take Gwen so he could feed her breakfast, when Bronwyn sang, when I nursed Gwen, when I watched Oliver snuggle with Daddy and, especially, when I wished Ella happy birthday. I also spent some time with two friends today and that was nice. My low was when I went to the hospital this morning. Finley?"

"Do I have to?" Finley groaned to Amelia.

Simultaneously, Owen and Amelia both responded, "Yes, please." A glimpse of synergy.

Finley huffed, completely disinterested in interacting with his family. He mumbled, "My high was sleeping when I had a headache and my low was hearing Mom and Dad fighting." He put a bite of spaghetti in his mouth immediately after his final word.

Amelia gave Finley a motherly look that expressed her frustration and disappointment, while Owen slowly took in a deep breath and turned toward Bronwyn to ask, "Bron, tell me about your Barbie Village."

"It was a city where nobody wore shoes and the other law was that Dada's couldn't ever, ever, never go away to wars," Bronwyn shared with innocent and naïve enthusiasm.

Breaking in, Amelia inquired, "Oliver, tell me about this airplane book. I haven't seen it yet."

Oliver entered into a complex and extended description of the book and each airplane featured in it. With great relief, the dinner conversation began rolling forward.

Finley, finishing ten minutes after everyone sat down, interrupted Oliver, asking to be excused. Owen, turning from the twin he was feeding, urged, "Let's all stay together a little longer, Fin. Clear your plate and grab something to drink, then sit back down with us." Finley huffed loudly and dramatically went about Owen's instructions to clear his plate and grab something to drink. He poured a glass of water and then headed up the stairs with it.

"Hey, Fin, c'mon back over," Owen ordered gently. Finley continued ascending the stairs, heading toward his room. Amelia and Owen exchanged glances.

"Oliver, could you please come sit in my seat and help feed the babies?" Amelia requested. Oliver, sensing an easy opportunity to be the favored child of the evening, agreed cheerfully.

Amelia set her napkin on the table and walked upstairs to chat with Finley.

Bronwyn leaned toward Owen and whispered, "Psssttt…Dada? Dada is Fin-Yee in twubba?"

"You don't need to worry about Finley, Red," Owen responded as he flicked his index finger on her nose playfully.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and exuded charm, responding, "Oh, Dada…there's that name again."

"Yep," Owen laughed as he took a bite of bread.

"Why do you call me that now?" Bronwyn inquired.

"Because you have red hair," Owen explained with a smile. "And because I like having silly names for you."

"So, can I call you Dada Red? Or Red Daddy? 'Cause you'll have red hair when it grows back, you know," Bronwyn pointed out.

"Let's stick with Dada or Daddy – one name at a time is enough," Owen advised with a wink.

* * *

Amelia stood outside Finley's bedroom door briefly, attempting to erase her anger toward him so she could maintain her calm as they spoke. She knocked and walked in, receiving a look of disgust from her son who was stretched out on his bed throwing a nerf ball against the wall.

"Do you suppose you could wait until I say, 'Come in,' before just walking in my room?" Finley sneered.

Amelia folded her arms and looked down at him. "No, Finley, I don't suppose I can. See, I'm your mom and I own this house. Anyone living here lives under my rules."

"Hmmm…even Dad?" Finley scoffed before continuing, "and…let's at least be honest, we both know you're not my real mom and dad."

"It sounds like you have a number of subjects you'd like to discuss. For now, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. We can revisit your topics at another time," Amelia insisted calmly. "Finley, you didn't mind your father a few minutes ago. Would you like an opportunity to rethink that decision or shall we proceed with a description of the consequences? Here's your chance. Your choice."

Finley stood up dramatically with a grumble, walked past Amelia and proceeded downstairs. Amelia thought to herself, _Thank God that worked._

When he reached the table, Finley pulled out his chair and sat down. He leaned his arms on the table so he could see around his sister and brother, and stated, "Dad, I apologize for not doing what you asked me to do."

"Thanks, Finley," Owen nodded before turning his head to share a glance with Amelia as she sat down in Oliver's chair.

"Fin-Yee?" Bronwyn requested. Finley ignored her, so she repeated herself.

"Bronwyn, are you trying to get my attention?" Finley asked flatly.

"Mhm," she nodded.

"Then say my name properly. You're not a baby," Finley instructed decisively.

"I can'ts say it anymo," Bronwyn replied.

"Then I guess we're not going to talk," Finley observed before looking down at his hands and slumping in his chair.

Bronwyn persisted, "Me wants to know if Fin-Yee in twubba."

"Bronwyn, are you finished with dinner?" Owen asked, attempting to redirect the discussion.

"Yes," Bronwyn responded.

"Then ask to be excused, clear your plate, and start clearing the table. Finley, do you still put the food away and do dishes?" Owen inquired.

"Yes," Finley confirmed with disinterest.

"Please start those efforts, then," Owen requested.

"Should I feed the dogs and clean the counters, Daddy?" Oliver suggested eagerly.

"Please, and thanks for helping with the twins, Oliver," Owen acknowledged.

Amelia stood up to grab a washcloth so she could begin cleaning up the girls and their chairs.

Owen reached out his hand when she returned to the twins, offering, "Aims, let me take care of that. It's one thing I can actually do."

"Thanks, Owen," Amelia stated gratefully. "Now, what am I going to do?"

"Go fall onto the bed, put your feet up and take a break," Owen suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll manage this as best I can. Don't worry – I'll holler if I need assistance."

Amelia put her hands over her heart and leaned down to kiss Owen's lips, mumbling, "Thank you, O. What a wonderful surprise."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Owen wheeled into the bedroom. Amelia was flipping through a medical journal and glimpsed over it to see her husband. "You ready for me out there?" she asked with anticipation.

"Nope," Owen responded as he wheeled into the bathroom.

"Huh?" Amelia sought to confirm.

Owen came out a few minutes later, "If you _want _to go out there, you sure can. I'm not sure why you'd bother. The kids are bathed and in bed. The kitchen and dining room are clean."

Amelia's mouth fell open in surprise, "Are you serious? How'd you manage that?"

Laughing, Owen admitted, "Finley's behavior offered me an opportunity to require his assistance. After the kitchen was clean, I sat on a barstool at the sink in the kitchen and bathed the twins. They thought it was hilarious. Finley supervised the other baths, much to Oliver's deep dismay. Everyone over 5 was fully capable of changing into their PJs and reading books to themselves, and those under 5 were dressed by Dada and put in their cribs by Fin-Yee."

"You're kidding me, right?" Amelia scoffed. "Umm…wow!"

"The way I figure it, I owe you roughly two months' worth of bedtime and morning routines," Owen winked as he worked his way onto the bed.

"Keep talking…" Amelia joked.

He laughed and leaned over to grab her and pull her down playfully as he tickled her.

"Stop!" Amelia giggled non-stop, "Owen!"

"Why would I stop, it sounds like you're having fun?" Owen asked impishly. Although his words asked the question, he knew better than to back up those words with continued tickling. A little went a long way.

Amelia began pulling her clothes off piece by piece. Owen watched as he flirted with his eyes and facial expressions. Then she began to undress her husband, reaching down beneath his legs once she'd completed the task.

"Mmm…that feels great, Mia, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's your turn. Don't worry about me right now," Owen insisted as he balanced on his side.

Smiling broadly with a happy purr, Amelia stretched her entire body in delight. She placed her fingers and hands placed above her head all the way and stretched them one way while stretching her toes in the other direction. Owen, maneuvering his right leg inelegantly but doing his best, began by kissing her on the forehead and working his way down. He grazed her whole body down to her toes, then paused halfway back and remained there until the purrs turned into moans of pleasure. As she caught her breath, her body now ultra-sensitive to his touch, Owen completed his exploration by kissing her from her hips to the crown of her head.


	7. Questions from the Melee

**_Chapter 7: Questions from the Melee_**

"Oooohhh… I think I overdid it yesterday," Owen yawned as he woke up with a sore body at 9:00 am on Friday morning. He assumed he was speaking to Amelia as he made his announcement. However, she was upstairs on the phone. Instead, Nala looked over at Owen and cocked her head. "Looks like it's just you and me, Nala. C'mere girl," Owen encouraged as he patted the bed. She came over and leaned against his bum knee, licking his leg and looking up at Owen with her big brown eyes. Owen scratched her behind the ears and rubbed the top of her head before he stood up with the assistance of his walker.

"Mia?" Owen called as he shuffled out of the makeshift Master Bedroom. "Mia?" Looking down at the dog, Owen asked, "Where is she, Nala? Where's Mama?"

As Owen walked toward the kitchen, he heard Amelia's voice in the distance. He overheard her advising, "Let's repeat the head CT in two hours. If it's not clear at that point, we can try an iMRI… (Pause…) No, I don't want the iMRI nor an MRI _now _– the patient does not have great insurance. I don't want to saddle them with a bunch of unnecessary debt. Waiting two hours won't change the outcome. (Pause…) Sounds good, keep me posted."

"Mia?" Owen called out again.

"Upstairs," Amelia informed him. "Sorry, I was on the phone. Everything ok?"

"Yeah. Checking in. Just woke up – you let me sleep late," Owen chuckled.

Amelia came around the corner to the top of the stairs and winked, "It's all on me, huh?"

"I was teasing," Owen smirked. "What's our plan today?"

"Let me grab the girls and I'll be right down," Amelia stated. Moments later, she descended the staircase with a twin in each arm and Simba running ahead of her. Gwendolyn leaned toward Owen hollering, "Da! Da!"

"Good morning, baby girl," Owen offered warmly.

"Can you hold her and deal with the walker at the same time, O?" Amelia inquired as she turned her cheek toward her shoulder.

"Hmm…probably not if I want to move. Let me sit down," Owen realized. He walked slowly to the Dining Room table and held out his arms, grasping Gwendolyn and bringing her in close for a hug and kiss.

Ella watched the exchange transpire and locked her eyes on Owen. She lowered her eyebrows and shook her head, "Gwen-ie, no." Ella pointed at Amelia's arm and bellowed, "Gwen-ie."

Owen and Amelia smiled at one another as Owen commented, "Hmmm…must be the red hair. The girl knows what she wants."

Looking at Ella, Amelia clearly explained, "Gwen's with Da, Ella."

Ella pointed at Amelia's arm again, pouting, "Gwen-ie."

"No. Gwen's with Da. Da loves Gwen. Da loves Ella," Amelia clarified. Ella began to wiggle so Amelia would put her down. She got her way and walked over to Owen and Gwen. Owen said nothing, giving Ella all the space and time she needed. Gwendolyn, on the other hand, called out, "Ella…Ella!"

Ella stood about two feet from her father, examining him like a lab assistant reading an important slide. She was absolutely fixated as she stood still and investigated. Amelia and Owen quietly watched, occasionally exchanging glances and grins. Stepping closer, Ella reached for her sister and called her name repeatedly. Owen gazed away, wondering if eye contact would cross the line. Tentatively, Ella reached out her arm and touched Owen's leg, then quickly returned to her Mama, "Mama, Up!"

Amelia picked her up and affirmed, "Did you touch Da's leg? Da's nice. Da loves Ella and Gwen." Ella snuggled her head into Amelia's shoulder and popped her binkie in her mouth. Amelia sat down in her regular spot at the table to answer Owen's question. "Today…believe it or not, the only plan is PT at 1pm. Wanna go with me to pick up the big kids or would you rather stay here with the girls and nap?"

"Hmm…I'll make that call after PT. What's our weekend look like?" Owen inquired.

"A lot like today only without the PT. Didn't plan a thing since once I heard the Major was coming home," Amelia smirked.

"Want to go away for a night or two? Just you and me? Or just us and the twins?" Owen proposed.

Amelia bit her bottom lip playfully and looked to her left, "Just us… the twins can survive a night or two without me." Then like a little kid, Amelia smiled and pulled her shoulders up high, "Where shall we go?"

"Wherever the hell you want," Owen responded with a grin. "And I'll deal with arranging childcare."

"How many Percocets did you take this morning?" Amelia teased.

Owen sputtered out a laugh and Gwendolyn imitated him. He was smug as he responded, "None. I'm not on those anymore. I've got a Fentanyl patch now, thank you very much."

Grinning, Amelia stood up and ran her hand atop Owen's head. She asked, "What do you want for breakfast, sleepy boy?"

"What are my options?" Owen asked back.

"I'm feeling nice, so…" Amelia admitted. "French toast or eggs and bacon or cereal. Coffee is a given."

"Mmmmm…" Owen reacted to the idea of real non-Army food, "How about French toast _and _eggs and bacon?"

Winking, Amelia smirked, "I suppose." As she walked over to the kitchen island, she opened up a conversation she knew they needed to have. "Owen, I'm just going to spit it out: if you want us to go to counseling, I'm all for it. But I don't want to go to your person from yesterday. I don't like the idea of encountering my therapist in the hospital hallways."

"That's fine," Owen answered. "Do you want me to dig up some suggestions?"

"Do you mind if I do it?" Amelia wondered aloud. "I'm kinda weird about therapists."

"Isn't your sister Kate a psychiatrist?" Owen sought to confirm.

"Wouldn't you be a little weirded out by psychiatrists and therapists if _you _grew up with her?" Amelia kidded with a hint of sarcasm.

* * *

Later that day, Sarah came over to the house. While the twins napped and their parents went to PT, Sarah helped out with some cleaning and laundry. Lynne and Sarah continued to work well with each other, and the kids adored them both. While Owen was away, Sarah's hours had dramatically increased. Now with his injuries, Sarah would remain a nearly constant fixture at the Shepherd-Hunt home.

When Amelia and Owen arrived at the hospital, Amelia went to check on the patient Edwards had called about earlier in the day. Although Amelia was officially on family leave so she could help take care of Owen, she'd made herself clear that she was open to consults and even occasional surgeries if the timing was right. Most days, being at the hospital and being in surgery felt far more manageable than her home life.

At PT, for the most part, Owen repeated what he'd done the day before. He inquired about starting to lift weights for the non-injured areas, and Bill was thrilled by the plan. Owen was really missing his runs that had become a daily and sometimes twice daily habit while he was overseas. It would be awhile before he could even begin to think about running again. But weights were a viable option _now._ Owen and Bill worked out a schedule so that Owen could lift weights there at the hospital after PT.

Amelia arrived in the PT room about five minutes before Owen's session concluded. Even after just one day, she was amazed at Owen's improvement. The morning had gone well, and Amelia was deeply grateful that PT only added to his pleasant day. After they picked the kids up at school, they were headed to a cabin in the woods about an hour from home but only five minutes from a quaint town with plenty of restaurant options. When Owen suggested she choose the venue, Amelia recalled that one of their colleagues owned a cabin and had invited her to use it more than once. One brief call took care of the plan.

After PT, the couple loaded into the rig without concern. Bill had suggested they keep a step stool in the Buick that Owen could use to help him get in and out. Both Amelia and Owen wondered why they hadn't thought of that option before. Amelia had to continually remind herself that Owen had only been home about 40 hours – in many ways, it seemed that he'd been home far longer.

"I forgot to mention, although it doesn't affect you and I too much, that Nai is coming home with us today. Her mom is going to pick her up around 8," Amelia shared.

"Nai?" Owen questioned.

"Naomi. It's 'Nai' now." Amelia clarified with a grin.

"So, Naomi is still in the picture? They've been together awhile now," Owen pondered aloud.

"Very much so. It's been quite the drama with Finley moving up to 9th grade classes this term. They don't get to see each other at school as much as they used to," Amelia stated.

"Mia, what are you talking about? Finley's switching grades? Skipping ahead _two _grades? What's that all about?" Owen inquired with surprise. He was also slightly perturbed that this was the first he'd heard of the shift.

"Didn't we tell you about that? At some point, we must have," Amelia responded. "I'm sure we did."

Owen answered her with a firm tone, "No. I have no idea what this is about."

"I'm really sorry, Owen. I can't believe I never shared this with you. Finley's class took some standardized test and he had an unprecedented perfect score. The school had him take another test to see if the first was an anomaly. It wasn't. He scored very high on that test also. Then he successfully tested out of 8th grade writing, English and history. Between the tests and his 4.0, Mrs. Tonnington suggested the shift. Lynne, Finley, and I met with her and with a few of his teachers. The consensus was that his 7th grade classes were not stimulating enough for him and were not challenging him sufficiently, so his schedule is filled with 9th grade courses. He was already in 9th grade math, geology, and Spanish anyway, so his only shifts were to 9th grade classes for writing, English literature and World History," Amelia paused and laughed, "Want to know which electives he selected? Latin 1 and PE. I cracked up when he chose to take Latin, but he's loving it."

"I guess that's all great news, Amelia, but I'm a little upset to just be hearing about it," Owen sighed. "Did you discuss social implications of moving him up? He's going to be much younger than all of his classmates."

Amelia raised her eyebrows and glanced at Owen, "Dear…this is _Finley _we're talking about. He's one of the oldest souls I've ever known. The school is small, and he already knows most of the 9th graders. Plus, he's taller than many of his male classmates. I think he'll be fine."

"I wish I'd been consulted and been part of the decision-making process. It's not that I don't trust your judgment, Mia. I do. But Finley's my son too. I want to be a part of significant decisions that affect him," Owen explained.

Amelia thought to herself, _if you hadn't signed up for another tour, you would have been here and would have been part of the process, Owen. _Saying those words, though, wouldn't be helpful. Instead, she responded, "I understand."

Owen half-laughed and half-complained, "Are there any other big changes I should know about? Is Bronwyn now studying dance at Juilliard? What about Oliver – did he get his pilot's license while I was away?"

"I'm truly sorry, Owen. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for not including you in the decision and for not telling you sooner. I screwed up," Amelia offered.

"I'll say you did," Owen huffed. The car filled with silence. Amelia did not feel that she needed to apologize again, and she didn't know what else to say. If Owen was going to be angry about her mistake, she knew that giving him time to cool off would be the best strategy. Besides, she truly did think she'd included Owen in the process. Somehow in the irregular life of deployment, she'd dropped the ball. Owen broke the quiet, saying, "I'm sorry. My last comment was inappropriate. By all means, Amelia, I forgive you. I'm sorry I left you alone to make significant decisions like that."

Amelia smirked and responded, "It's OK, Owen. Really." They arrived at Bronwyn's school and Bronwyn bounded in happily, describing her day by occasionally employing baby talk. Amelia had called the teacher earlier that morning to tell her about the shift. Later in the day, the teacher emailed sharing that Bronwyn was not using baby talk at all at school. Both agreed it was Bronwyn's unconscious attempt to ensure she received her parent's attention now that Owen had returned. While a happy event, Owen's re-entry created adjustment.

On their way to pick up Finley, Nai and Oliver, Bronwyn kept Owen entertained with her descriptive summary. "Dada, me went to why-berry (library) today and hearded a story about a GIANT green dino-so (dinosaur)," Bronwyn explained with inflections and hand motions, "and me painted at art time and learneded how to write 'excellent'. It's a super long word, so me takes a while to write it."

They pulled up to the boys' school. As always, Oliver came barreling up to the car and slammed into its side with his hands. As he climbed inside, Amelia directed, "Oliver, you're next to Bronwyn in the 2nd row today. Nai is coming home with us, so she's going to sit in your spot."

"Are you serious?" Oliver whined. "Finley has someone over and _I _have to change seats? He should have to."

"Oliver, please," Owen interjected.

"But it's not fair," Oliver added to his complaint.

"You know, Oliver, you almost sound like you need a nap when we get home," Amelia commented lightly.

Oliver rolled his eyes and buckled in next to his annoying, baby-talking sister, instructing her, "Don't look at me, don't talk to me, and don't touch me, Bronwyn Kate." Then he folded his arms in a huff.

Finley and Nai came walking up idyllically, hand in hand. As they approached, Finley was talking and Nai appeared to be captivated by each word. She laughed just before he opened the door and invited her to step in first. "Welcome back, Dr. Hunt," Nai offered right away. "Hi, Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. Thanks for letting me come over today."

"You're welcome, Nai. Our pleasure," Amelia responded.

Finley climbed in behind Nai and sat in the middle seatbelt, so he was as close to his girlfriend as possible. He offered an upbeat greeting, "Hi everyone!" His parents and Bronwyn returned the greeting. Oliver, who he'd seen on and off all day at school, remained silent and stewing.

As they headed home, Nai's manners shined as always. She inquired, "Dr. Hunt, Finley told me you had some injuries while you were overseas. How are you feeling?"

"Yeah, I did, Naomi," Owen confirmed. "You know, I'm in a tremendous amount of pain sometimes, but, overall, I'm feeling better each day. Thanks for asking. That was very thoughtful."

"Dad, it's Nai now, not Naomi," Finley pointed out respectfully.

"Right. Sorry, Nai. You'll probably have to remind me a few times before I commit it to memory," Owen shared.

"No problem," Nai responded with a smile before she looked into Finley's eyes and sparkled. For his part, Finley raised his eyebrows and bore his gaze into her eyes. Smiling would have gone overboard in Finley's book, so he slightly turned up the corner of one side of his mouth while his lips remained closed. He now made an effort to only laugh and smile in private amidst a select few.

"So…umm… Dada? Dada, what happeneded when you got hurted?" Bronwyn wondered aloud.

Owen twisted back so he could look at Bronwyn directly as he answered, "What do you mean, sweetie? I hurt my leg, my knee and part of my tummy. Also, I was pretty bruised up."

"I know," Bronwyn stated, "me meaneded _how _did it happen? _How _did you getted hurt_?"_

"Oh," Owen responded. "There were some soldiers from the other group that came to our OR, Bronwyn. They weren't nice."

"_How _weren't they nice?" Bronwyn persisted with curiosity.

Owen sighed and ran his hand over his short hair, "They knew I was in charge, so one guy threw me on the floor and kicked me hard. Another guy used his gun and shot me three times." The boys were unimpressed, they'd heard various versions of the story plenty of times since the scene occurred. Nai leaned forward and held her hand to her mouth, saddened and shocked by Owen's words.

"They should have to say sorry," Bronwyn concluded.

"Uh huh," Owen nodded, not reminding her that the invaders had been killed by the Marines.

"Were airplanes there when it happened, Dad?" Oliver asked.

"No. There was a Blackhawk helicopter close by that hurried in to help us. As soon as the Marines assumed control of the scene, they called for it," Owen described.

"How'd they get control of the scene? What's that mean?" Oliver wondered with intrigue.

Owen took a deep breath and continued, "They fought with the other soldiers, and they won."

"Like a fist fight or arm wrestling?" Oliver asked.

"Kind of," Owen responded, trying not to laugh.

"Why only kind of?" Oliver sought clarification.

Owen looked at Amelia with a hint of desperation. Pausing, Owen offered, "A lot of people were hurt, Ollie."

"Like blown up or shot or what?" Oliver inquired.

"Shot, Ollie. That's enough description. It was not good," Owen tried to conclude.

"Dr. Hunt? May I ask a question," Nai's voice peeped from the back of the car.

"Sure, Nai," Owen agreed.

"It sounds like you were really hurt. But you weren't in a hospital when it happened, right?" Nai asked.

Owen confirmed and clarified, "Right. We were in huge tents and our job was to help wounded soldiers right after they'd been hurt. We did the big emergency stuff like stopping bleeding and making sure they were breathing and safe to take to a hospital. We didn't have a whole hospital there."

"Were there other doctors right there to help you like that?" Nai wondered aloud.

Owen explained, "Dr. Kepner, one of my friends, helped me at first. She tried to stop the bleeding from the bullets and worked hard to keep me awake. Her hard work made a big difference."

"Then you had to go somewhere else for more help?" Nai asked.

"That's a great question with kind of a long answer," Owen began. "Almost right away, a helicopter came to move us away from where we were. Then the helicopter people and Dr. Kepner helped me a little more inside the chopper. Pretty quickly after we boarded the helicopter, we stopped and switched to an airplane that was like a hospital inside. We flew to a hospital on the ground and I stayed there awhile before flying on another airplane with a hospital inside to Germany. That's where Dr. Shepherd-Hunt came to see me. _Then…_" Owen concluded, "I was at a hospital in Texas for a while before I flew home on another hospital airplane. There were a whole bunch of doctors, nurses, and other people who helped me. I'm very lucky so many people knew how they could help and decided to help me, and other soldiers like me."

"Your story is amazing," Nai stated with awe. "My mom and I prayed for you every single day you were gone. It's a bummer that you were hurt, and I'm really glad you're home. You're a hero, Dr. Hunt."

A few tears formed in Owen's eyes as he took in her words, "Thanks, Nai. It's really nice to know how much you and your mom cared."


	8. Weekend Getaway

**_Chapter 8: Weekend Getaway_**

**_So, honey now, take me into your loving arms._**

**_Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars._**

**_Place your head on my beating heart_**_._

Amelia rolled off of her naked husband and fell on the bed with an elated sigh. Her darling face was overtaken by an enormous smile. As he continued to lay on the bed, Owen's eyes were soft and relaxed as he returned her gaze with a dreamy smile. With a light tone, he whistled, "That…was amazing." In full agreement, Amelia chuckled deeply and raised her eyebrows playfully. Having to discover sexual positions that were possible with Owen's injured knee had added a whole new spice to their love life.

They had only been at the cabin for two hours, but the highest priority of the weekend was well underway. Agreed upon on the way out of town, the plan was to hole up in bed, to talk and reconnect, to eat out, and to have oodles of sex. They celebrated with a high five when they agreed upon the blueprint.

"Damn…" Owen grumbled with a light-hearted tone.

Amelia sat up in shock, worried something was seriously amiss. "What?" she inquired anxiously.

"I'm hungry," Owen grinned. "That means I have to get up and take a shower."

"You can throw on some clothes, can't you? We'll never see any of these people again," Amelia chuckled.

"You most certainly don't want to be anywhere near me as-is, Mia," Owen laughed. "You… uh… we… that was quite the workout."

**_When your legs don't work like they used to before,_**

**_and I can't sweep you off of your feet,_**

**_Will your mouth still remembers the taste of my love?_**

**_Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?_**

Amelia flirted with a sly smile and agreed they should probably both take a shower. "It wouldn't hurt for me to shower. Should we save some water and hop in there together? I mean, just in terms of doing our part to save the environment."

Owen hummed and put forth, "I'll see you in there, pretty lady."

If a list were ever created that detailed how to physically and emotionally reconnect, a shared shower would be listed in the top options. Owen's strong and un-injured hands rubbed and massaged Amelia's back with deep squeezes. He worked his way up to her hair, running his fingers through it gently and kneading her scalp. She turned around and soaped up his chest and neck, laughing about whether or not his stubbly hair needed shampoo. Working her way below his torso, Amelia not only turned Owen on but also truly helped him since he was still unable to fully bend. From his feet, she worked her way up and slapped him playfully on the ass when she reached it.

"No fair!" Owen, sitting on a tall plastic stool, hollered with a laugh. "You know I can't stand up to retaliate."

Amelia bravely worked her way between his legs and whispered in a sultry tone, "Can you reach me here?" Owen leaned in, simultaneously kissing her and chuckling. His hand slid over her breasts before making their way downward. He teased her as he playfully squeezed her ass with both of his hands. The kissing and playing continued until they'd run out of hot water and discovered they were beginning to shiver under the cold water.

**_Your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen._**

**_And, baby your smile's forever in my mind and memory_**

* * *

Later, they sat at a candlelit table with a plastic tablecloth in a little, family-owned Italian restaurant. Owen grabbed a crayon from the paper cup on the table and doodled on his paper placemat. He began the conversation – one of the many they would have over the next two days, "If you were to name the top five concerns since I've been home, what might they be?"

Amelia grinned and said in a lighthearted tone, "Why do I have to go first?"

"Because I broached the topic first?" Owen asked, hoping she'd proceed.

With a gentle smile, she grabbed a crayon and began to share her thoughts. Coloring gave her a reason not to look in his eyes as she spoke. "Five, huh? Well…definitely _not _sex," she started with a coy smile. Under the table, she rubbed her toes along his left calf. "Concerns, hmm? Learning to communicate and connect again…how to read each other, synergy. I don't know if that's one or two or four," she giggled lightly. "It's a start anyway."

"I think the biggest question for us is figuring out what it means to be family," Owen admitted as he looked up at Amelia with love and grasped her hand. "Everything seems to wind its way back to that. How do we parent together? Everything from clarity on rules, logistics, and routines. How do we balance our needs for solitude with family and couple time?"

"You know what I'd like, Owen? I'd like some kind of code word to communicate that the other one needs to take a deep breath and calm down," Amelia proposed. "Like when you snapped at Finley about holding Ella up in the air and everything snowballed into an argument."

"That's fair," Owen nodded. "What should the word or words be? Owen you're being an ass? Or did you have something else in mind?" he suggested with a cheerful and cooperative voice.

For the first time since they'd begun the conversation, Amelia looked up at her husband. She was grinning and trying not to laugh. "You're a smartass. That's one thing I truly love about you."

"How about a phrase the kids wouldn't find strange? You know, we could use it and nobody else would think it was out of context? Something like 'another way to see it,' 'you know, I've been thinking about this and…' or …"

"I need something easy and brief. My brain is full enough," Amelia admitted. "How about the word 'perhaps' followed by whatever makes the most sense at the time – then it's flexible depending on context. And that's not a word either of us really use."

"So, let's play this out. I'd snap at Nolan and firmly order him to put the baby down and you'd say something like, "Perhaps you could hand me the baby, Finley" or "Perhaps we should start thinking about dinner" or whatever," Owen processed.

"It's just an idea. I think anything is going to be awkward at first," Amelia acknowledged.

"That could work. I like it because it doesn't sound like we're overruling the other," Owen pointed out.

"Well, Dr. Hunt…looks like we're able to figure this crap out after all," Amelia chuckled. "Can we use that as a codeword to call a temporary truce, too? You know, if we're starting to get into an intense debate and the other wants to step back for a minute."

Owen chuckled, "Basically, we'll use 'perhaps' any time we'd rather slap the other one upside the head?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Amelia guffawed.

**_I'm thinking about how people fall in love in mysterious ways,_**

**_maybe it's all part of a plan._**

**_Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes,_**

**_hoping that you'll understand._**

"Can I admit something?" Owen muttered as he resumed coloring and avoiding eye contact.

"Of course," Amelia responded with a curious expression.

As he held a purple crayon and drew back and forth repeatedly in one area, Owen sputtered with embarrassment, "I really hated hearing Avery call you Amy."

"Oh, Owen," Amelia responded with gentle compassion. "I would've never invited him to do so if I'd known. I'm sorry."

"I feel like an idiot that I have a problem with it, and I don't want him to know because I'd feel like even more of an idiot but think about the people given that honor. Derek, Addison, your dad, and me. Family," he highlighted.

"And Ryan. He did too," Amelia said softly.

"Yeah," Owen nodded with sympathetic eyes. "I know you and Jackson supported each other while April and I were gone. I'm guessing you had some deep and meaningful conversations. Still…he's not family. I dunno…I'm starting to feel pathetic."

"You consider it an honor to call me 'Amy,'?" Amelia grinned tenderly with the best coy, endearing and charming youngest child expression she had.

**_Maybe just the touch of your hand…_**

**_I fall in love with you every single day_**

Owen chuckled and looked at her with a wide smile, "Yes. Absolutely. The day my Mia told me I could call her Amy, I felt like I'd fully arrived." He blushed as he shuffled in his chair.

"But nobody else…nobody…calls me Mia," Amelia pointed out with affection just as the waiter brought their food. "I mean…Derek's kids call me Auntie Mia, but that's not Mia by itself."

Owen reached over, grasped Amy's hand and kissed it, then asserted, "I love you, Mia Shepherd-Hunt."

Amelia, with her free hand, fed him a bite of her ravioli as she mouthed, _I love you, Owen Hunt._

**_Oh, baby, we found love right where we are_**

**_And we found love right where we are._**

* * *

Later, after making love again, the couple rested in each other's arms. They began chatting about the kids – funny stories of hijinks during Owen's deployment, observations about Fin's quickly shifting emotional ups and downs, and Bronwyn's absolutely annoying baby talk. Whenever the couple stole away to be alone, conversations about the kids always slipped in.

"How are we going to handle another one, Owen?" Amelia asked with a tinge of trepidation. "This little guy – poor kid – is going to come along and have to find a place amidst the chaos."

"We'll do it the same way we made it through instant parenthood and high risk, preemie twins. We'll do it like we learned how to co-exist in an OR without throwing a scalpel at the other," Owen kidded. "Mia, we'll do it. And you know what? That little guy will quickly discover the benefits and wiles of his existence as a youngest child. He's going to be just fine."

"Wiles? Are you implying that we youngest children employ trickery and deceit?" she asked with widened eyes and an open mouth.

Owen shrugged and leaned over to kiss her, quickly changing the subject. "Names? Did you pick those out while I was gone?"

"No," Amelia shook her head. "I like the idea of using your name as a middle name. 'Something Owen Hunt.'"

Owen looked off into the distance, "The parts already determined sound fantastic – a name for a brilliant, charming, hard-working…"

"smart ass," Amelia interjected with a giggle.

"That's a given in this family, isn't it?" Owen retorted.

Amelia giggled and mentioned, "I'm 15 weeks along and entering into the stage where I'll just look fat. Maybe it's time to start sharing the news. Why don't we tell the kids tomorrow night at dinner?"

"Sounds good. Who's taking the lead? You or me?" Owen sought to clarify.

"You're the one who knocked me up, pal. How about if you fess up," she winked.

* * *

The weekend was energizing and fulfilling for both Owen and Amelia. While there would continue to be unexpected bumps in the road, their reconnection process was now well underway. Discussing parenting roles helped clarify expectations. Both promised they would resume their evening chats after dinner, although Amelia was a bit worried that Finley might feel displaced. Her idea was to try having the three of them chit chat after dinner and the try to connect as a couple at another time.

**_When my hair's all gone and my memory fades…_**

**_I know you will still love me the same_**

Owen's greatest fears were that his snappy mood was pretty much guaranteed to happen now and then and that he'd heard that the toughest time for re-adjustment was actually months after a soldier returns. For her part, Amelia's greatest fears were renegotiating roles and responsibilities both in the present as Owen healed and then again as he recovered. Both agreed wholeheartedly that communication was foundational. They committed to work hard at communicating with one another and to intentionally spending time together as an entire family.


	9. Stories We Tell

**_Chapter 9: Stories We Tell _**

After their weekend away, Amelia and Owen were determined to work on re-establishing family routines. Lynne, Sarah and Amelia had done her best to keep the basic structures in place during Owen's deployment. They wanted the kids' lives to remain at least somewhat predictable. The adjustments now were more about presence: would Owen attend the soccer games, dance recitals and school events? How would morning and bedtime routines unfold? His injuries and temporary inability to drive, of course, complicated the plans. While he was usually happy to simply go along as the passenger, at times he found his ongoing dependence irritating.

Since she'd be taking maternity leave later in the year, Amelia planned to return to work on January 18. Amelia's hope was that Owen might be a bit more self-sufficient by then and would be using crutches. Owen was not so sure. Regardless of timing, Owen and Amelia both knew that, little by little, he would eventually reintegrate into a parenting role that would include carpools, carrying babies, and coaching soccer.

* * *

Monday night, when dinner time came around, Amelia called out for everyone to begin gathering at the table. She poked her head into her temporary bedroom and found Owen on the bed reading a medical journal. "Dinner's ready, O," she prompted.

Smiling up politely at Amelia, Owen responded, "So I heard. I'll be right there."

Amelia walked over and kissed her husband, observing, "You look brighter eyed and less worn today. Feeling a little better?"

"I suppose I am. I called Callie late last week because I was tired of feeling foggy all the time. She sent over some 50 microgram Fentanyl patches to replace the 100s. I used those over the weekend and noticed I could probably decrease even more. Today, I'm down to Celebrex, Vitamin C, and the 25 microgram patches. I feel at least a little more like myself," Owen commented.

"That would explain it. I'm glad to see you gaining strength," Amelia smiled as she leaned down to kiss her husband. As she left the room, she teased, "Now if we could just get your curls and wonderful hair to grow back."

Owen chuckled and called out, "I'm working on it." He twisted around to sit on the edge of the bed. His trusty walker was just to his right. His crutches stood in a corner about 5-6 feet away. At PT, he was receiving increasing pressure to transition to crutches, but he hadn't yet made the move at home. With a sigh of both resignation and courage, Owen set his walker in front of him so he could grab on to it and reach the crutches. Not wanting the kids to see his attempt, he grasped the crutches and walked to the dining room. He was the first one to be seated.

Amelia, in the kitchen, spotted him out of the corner of her eye and smiled as he walked. She planned not to say a word or draw attention to the shift. To Owen's surprise, he found them far easier to maneuver than the walker. However, he was too stubborn and headstrong to plan on admitting that to his wife or medical practitioners.

One by one, the kids shuffled to their seats. When Bronwyn came down, she wrapped her arms around Owen and offered a firm hug, "Hi, Dada."

"Hey, Bron. I haven't seen you today. Good day at school?" Owen inquired.

"Mmm Hmm," Bronwyn nodded as she climbed into her seat and began tracing the pattern on the tablecloth with her finger.

Oliver came down coaching Ella as they descended the stairs. Finley, Gwen in his arms and Nai by his side, was trying his best to not cop an attitude. Owen had held one of those 'I'm going to lean toward you with a very firm expression' chats with Finley the prior day. He wanted Finley to be crystal clear that surly negativity could be saved for other venues. Having Nai over for dinner made a difference too – Finley was usually not snarly in front of her.

Bronwyn wiggled anxiously in her seat, requesting, "Dada… umm, yeah… Dada… me wants to play the story game tonight. The one where you start a story and then Mama adds to it, then Finley adds to it. That one. Can we? Can we play that one tonight?" Finley groaned internally. The discussion games used to be ok in the past, but now he preferred to eat, be excused, and be on his way.

Owen smiled at Bronwyn and promised, "We can play that one tomorrow night for sure. Tonight, we're going to play dinner guest. Do you remember that one?"

"Umm…" Bronwyn pondered as she placed her index finger on her cheek.

"Nai's probably never played it," Finley pointed out. Nai was consistently intrigued when she was in the presence of the large Shepherd-Hunt family. As an only child, her life at home was far different from Finley's.

"Can you explain it?" Owen prompted.

Not wanting to be a snot but also not wanting to recite the directions, Finley gave Oliver a brotherly look that screamed, '_Help me out, pal._' Oliver piped up, "I can, Dad! So every person here picks any person from any time and decides that person would be here with us as a dinner guest. You can invite anyone to join us. The person can be someone you know or even someone you've never met, living or dead. Then you share why you picked the person you picked. It's easy. You'll catch on."

Owen announced, "Thanks, Oliver. Great job. Mom's going first."

"Hmm…I would pick my dad because I still miss him. I wish he could see our wonderful family and I wish he could sit beside me and tell me stories about his life," Amelia explained.

Oliver looked at Amelia gently, then commented, "Mom…you kinda always pick your dad. Dad, isn't there a rule against saying the same person every single time?"

"Nope," Owen quipped. "Ok, Finley, you're up."

"My guest is already here and I'd pick her any day because I like being with Nai," he smiled softly at his girlfriend as he offered his romantic choice. Under the table, he squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand.

"Aww…thanks, Fin," Nai responded shyly with a grin.

Finley jutted up his chin and reminded Nai, "It's your turn."

"Oh, right," Nai began. "I think I would choose my grandma because she always has nice things to say and loves to be with her family. She lives faraway so I don't get to see her very often."

Oliver knew he was next. "Can it be an animal? Or only a human?"

"You ask that every time, Oliver," Bronwyn sighed.

"Hmm…" Owen pondered as he narrowed his eyes, "only a human."

"Then I'd pick Dr. Avery," Oliver shared.

"Reasons?" Amelia prompted.

"Because he's lots of fun and plays basketball with me and I haven't seen him in a while," Oliver shared.

Emitting an enormous sigh, Bronwyn disclosed her choice, "I would choose my other mommy and daddy because I sometimes miss our other mommy and I never knewed our other daddy."

Nai whispered to Finley, "What's she talking about?"

"I'll tell you later," Finley whispered back.

Amelia grinned, not sure if her choice had influenced Bronwyn's selection. "Bronwyn, what do you suppose you'd talk about with them?"

"Prolly dancing and my mantasaurus school. Maybe I'd ask my daddy if he liked being a fireman. And I'd want to give my mama a giant hug and sit on her lap."

Finley, whose memories of their parents were the clearest and most extensive, looked down at his plate and took a few deep breaths. When he looked up, he caught Oliver's eye and mouthed, _"You ok?" _Oliver nodded as he grimaced. Their hearts softened by Bronwyn's words, neither brother even thought about correcting _mantasaurus_ to _Montessori. _

"Those are all fascinating choices," Owen commented. "I chose someone that nobody has ever chosen before."

"Who, Dada? Who?!" Bronwyn squirmed.

Oliver added, "C'mon, tell us."

Owen reached over and grasped Amelia's hand. "I would invite the baby boy that is growing inside your mom right now and who will be here in about 5 months."

"Whaaaa?!" Oliver exploded with joy. "A little brother? YES!"

"Wow, Mom. Another kid, huh?" Finley responded with a smile as he squeezed Nai's hand.

Bronwyn was slightly confused. "Wait a minute, please," she said as she put her hand up in a stop motion. "You're having _another_ baby, Mama?"

"I am, Bron. This summer," Amelia clarified.

"Holy moly. That's gonna be a whole bunch of kids," Bronwyn reacted as she slapped her hands on her cheeks. Slowly shaking her head back and forth in disbelief, Bronwyn asked, "Where's he gonna sit in the car?"

Amelia laughed, "You know, Bronwyn, we haven't figured that out yet. But there are enough seats. We'll make it work."

"Where's his bedroom gonna be?" Oliver asked curiously.

Owen answered, "Your mom and I talked about that this weekend. At first, he'll sleep in our room like the twins did. Then he'll move to the nursery the twins use now."

"But where will the twins sleep?!" Bronwyn asked as if Owen and Amelia hadn't considered that detail.

"We were hoping one of you big kids would volunteer to move down the hall by the guest room so we could move the twins into one of your rooms. Finley gets first dibs, then Oliver, then Bronwyn," Owen explained.

"I want it! I definitely want to move to that room," Finley interjected with joy and enthusiasm. The new room was roughly the same size as his current room, but it also had a walk in closet and its own balcony that looked out over the water. The balcony was like having an additional room, especially when the weather was warm.

Amelia grinned. She loved seeing Finley looking so happy. She added, "Oliver, you get to make a choice too. Do you want Finley's old room or do you want to keep your room?"

"Nah, I like my room. I don't wanna move. Bron, you can have it if you want," Oliver offered.

"But it's painted boy colors, not girl colors. I like my girl colors bedroom, so I don't want it," Bronwyn decided.

"Are you going to be in the hospital all the time like you were with the twins, Mom?" Finley wondered aloud.

"I don't think so. So far, he's doing great and I'm not having any problems. I'm hoping that I'll just live my regular life until he is ready to be born," Amelia explained.

"Good, 'cause I'd really hate it if you had to go away to the hospital like that again," Oliver grinned.

Nai entered the conversation and asked, "Dr. Shepherd-Hunt, have you selected a name yet?"

"Not yet. We're still thinking about it. We're pretty sure his middle name will be Owen," Amelia shared.

Oliver explained, just in case Nai didn't know, "That's our dad's first name. Owen." Nai, who did know Owen's first name, kindly smiled and went back to eating her diner.

Finley was so eager to have the room with the balcony that was far away from everyone else that he begged to be able to move to it right away. His parents told him that he would have to wait, but that he could show it to Nai if he took Oliver along to brainstorm how he might arrange his new space.

* * *

Two nights later, April and Jackson came over for dinner. The kids provided their regular unintentional entertainment as they shared stories and news from their lives. After dinner, the adults moved to the large couch by the fireplace. Finley, under Owen's observation and direction, had started a fire in the fireplace before dinner and the wood was crackling and popping as it burned. The four youngest went upstairs with Lynne while Finley stayed downstairs to clean the kitchen.

"I understand you're about to throw that walker away and move to crutches, Chief," April mentioned.

"Oh really?" Owen gasped with surprise. "Who told you that?"

"Dr. Torres," April smiled. "You're ready, don't you think?"

Owen laughed, not wanting to publicly discuss his transition, "Torres has grand dreams. Next I'll know, she'll have me signed up for a marathon in the spring."

"How _is _your healing process going?" April inquired with sincerity.

Owen grinned, "Thanks to this amazing doctor who responded nearly right away to stop the profuse bleeding, it's progressing well."

"I wasn't looking for accolades, Chief," April blushed.

Amelia interjected, "Can I ask a question about the event? Do you two mind talking about it? If you do, I understand."

"No, Mia. Please," Owen replied with a look of concern, "ask away." This was the first time since he'd returned that she asked about the deployment. Owen wasn't sure if she assumed the topic was off-limits or if she didn't want to hear about it.

"You were thrown to the ground, then kicked when you tried to advocate for the nurse," Amelia began.

"Risa. Risa was the nurse, yes." Owen nodded. He glanced toward the kitchen and noticed Finley was listening.

"Then you were shot," Amelia attempted to piece together. "How quickly was April able to respond and, April, how did you navigate through the Sudanese?"

"April, just a minute before you answer," Owen requested. "Finley? If you want to come over and hear this, you're welcome to join us. If you don't want to know the details, you might want to head upstairs. Your choice."

Finley set down the pan he was drying off and sat next to Amelia on the couch without saying a word. Amelia subtly grasped his hand and Finley held it without hesitation.

"I was at his side within 30 seconds. When the soldier shot him, I noticed the Marines entering the back of the OR. Then the Sudanese ordered me to examine Dr. Hunt's injuries," April explained. "It all happened so, so fast. I'm pretty sure that's how it occurred."

"Was he conscious? I've never heard the details and I've assumed Owen's memories of the event are pretty foggy," Amelia shared.

"He was definitely awake. His eyes were dull and his breathing was shallow but he wasn't gasping. He was clammy and cool, heading into shock," April paused as if she was seeing the scene replaying in her head. "Then, I moved to the blood, trying to find the source or sources. His left side and his right leg were the most saturated. I think I started packing the abdominal wound next. I remember reaching up and grabbing something. I knew it wasn't sterile, but I needed to slow the bleeding. Then I used a scalpel to rip open his pants so I could see his leg. There were two bullet wounds on his leg. Extensive damage. Open skin, so I could visualize the bone. No access to x-rays. Excruciating pain…" April trailed off.

Jackson gently encouraged, "April, if you need to stop, stop. I'm sure Amelia will understand."

"No," April responded, "I'm fine. It bothers me when I can't remember the details. Are you ok?" April asked Owen. Owen nodded.

"His BP was high; I didn't have any pain meds right there at hand and he begged for relief. The Sudanese were watching me. The Marines started shooting and everything was a flurry. I remember flopping on top of the Chief, hoping to shield him from any bullets. I kept reassuring him."

"I remember that," Owen stated thoughtfully, "and I remember telling you to keep track of my pack. Then the chopper was there immediately, wasn't it?"

"No. It was quick, but I had time to grab your pack, find some oxycodone and fentanyl and start an IV. The Marines loaded you onto the chopper. I remember you wincing and calling out – you were in such tremendous pain and moving you before it was controlled was a rotten experience," April recalled.

"What's oxycodone and fentyl or whatever you called it?" Finley asked.

Amelia leaned closer to Finley and explained, "Both are very strong pain relievers. They usually work fast but Dr. Kepner had _just _put in an IV, so Dad was still in pain."

April continued, "We weren't on the chopper very long. They flew us to a medical plane that took us to Camp Lemmonier in Djibouti." April chuckled, "I remember telling the lead physician on the C-17 that I wouldn't leave the Chief's side. I got my way." April looked at Owen and giggled, "You praised me for that, do you remember?"

"No," Owen smiled. "But I'm glad I did."

"Then I tried to blow you off when you wanted details about your condition. The meds were working, and you were… well, entertaining. I didn't want you to worry. Then you mumbled 'Still…boss…April..." and insisted I tell you," April chuckled as she imitated Owen's voice and as everyone joined in her gentle laughter. "We landed in Djibouti and you called Dr. Shepherd-Hunt from the ambulance. Do you remember that? You were pretty heavily sedated."

"I don't," Owen shook his head.

"I do," Amelia recalled soberly, "I remember that Jackson and the Chaplain had come over. They came quickly after it happened because Jackson had seen and heard it all." Pausing to chuckle, Amelia continued, "Owen, you were loopy. It was endearing. You told me 'You're gonna be pissed…went and got hurt, but you should see the other guy.' " Various degrees of chuckles and smiles emerged.

"Then you hired your CNA to be the Chief of CNAs at Grey Sloan after she bathed you," April chortled as everyone else joined her. Owen shrugged, attempting to hide his embarrassment. As she continued, she looked at Amelia and described, "The CNA took him for numerous tests. They found out he had a shattered patella. I remember being anxious that they weren't operating on his leg until he reached Germany, but someone told me it was possible for a wounded soldier to exist 30 hours in agony – not that the information was all that calming or reassuring. He had a brain bleed and insisted the scans be sent to Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. That's where my memory starts to fade," April concluded. "I think you called home shortly after that."

"I remember that," Finley added. "You seemed pretty normal, not goofy."

"They were aspirating my knee, which lessened my pain significantly. Maybe that helped," Owen grinned.

"What's a patella, a brain bleed, and aspirating?" Finley asked.

"The patella is your knee cap. A brain bleed is when a vessel in your head bleeds into the brain. Aspirating means taking out the water and blood that have collected in the injured area," Owen shared.

"Oh," Finley nodded. "That was a pretty intense deal, Dad. Wow. Why did you ask Dr. Kepner to make sure she brought your backpack?"

Not only was Owen not allowed to share the information hidden in his backpack, he wasn't allowed to even disclose that he had possessed the documents. Attempting to navigate around the question, he explained, "There were medical supplies, water, my passport, important papers, things like that in it."

"Hey, Fin, it's getting pretty late. Why don't you head upstairs?" Amelia prompted when she noticed it was 30 minutes past his bedtime. When Finley was out of earshot, Amelia asked, "I'd like to see or hear your recordings, Jackson."

"No…no…no you wouldn't. Trust me, you don't," Jackson shook his head slowly.

"Your advice sucks," Amelia kidded, harkening back to the laughter they shared last time that phrase arose. Jackson joined Amelia as they both broke into hysterics. Owen and April glanced at each other in utter confusion.

As the laughter began to lessen, Owen cleared his throat. He scoffed, "Why would you want to do that, Mia?" Owen felt protective, both of his horrific experience and of his wife, and planned to do all he could to prevent her from listening to the recording. As far as he was concerned, she simply didn't need that memory etched in her head.

"It would make it more real, more tangible. Give me a better sense of what you lived through," Amelia stated flatly. "I'd like to do it. I'm a brain surgeon for God's sake, I think I'm capable of knowing what I can and cannot handle."

"Sit on it for a few days, then see where you are," Jackson suggested. "It's intense, Amy. I'm not sure you fully appreciate what you'd be in for."

* * *

The combination birthday party for Oliver and the twins and welcome home party for Owen was scheduled for Saturday the 28th. Since he arrived home, Owen had known the date. He appreciated the party not being scheduled immediately after his return and originally thought the end of January would be ideal. However, as the date drew near, Owen was uneasy about all the fuss.

In a therapy session the prior week, Owen and Amelia fought about the party. So many people were eager to see Owen and wish him well, but he was becoming more and more of a recluse. His life now existed of PT, workouts at the hospital gym, doctors' appointments, and home. Almost always, he declined the opportunity to attend a fun event or to accompany someone to drop off or pick up the kids. At home, however, he was happy and highly interactive with the kids. He was craving a life that involved predictability, familiarity and minimal drama. The chaplain, whose card Amelia had kept from the day of the shooting, assured Amelia that Owen's actions were common among healing soldiers.

After stewing about the party on and off for a few days, Owen and Amelia came to a truce: the birthday party for the kids would go on but the welcome home party would be postponed. The party on the 28th would involve friends from school (for Oliver) and family. Begrudgingly, Amelia agreed that Owen would celebrate just with the kids and family at home before all the other guests arrived. Owen didn't want to be present at the main party where he might steal attention away from the kids or be in a position where somebody he barely knew might ask detailed questions about his deployment or injuries. The large party with a jump house and lots of fuss was more than he felt capable of handling.

Instead of being home during that time, Owen arranged for a ride to the hospital. He had access to the PT room where he lifted weights and worked on his home PT exercises. When he became hungry, the cafeteria was right there. His quiet and solidary Saturday was exactly what he craved.


	10. Daddy Daycare

**_Chapter 10: Daddy Daycare_**

As Amelia put on her earrings and took one last look in the mirror, she repeated, "Owen, are you sure you can be on your own? We're talking all day."

"Mia, we're talking 5-6 hours. And, yes, I'll be fine," Owen attempted to assure her. Looking at the twins who were climbing around on the bed and playing with their daddy, Owen stated purposely loud enough for Amelia to hear, "Mama is silly. Yes, she is. She thinks Dada is going to end up in the ER if he's alone for more than 10 minutes. Silly Mama."

"Seh-yee Mama," Ella repeated as she flirted with her Da. Finally, the day before, Ella had decided that Da was a good guy. Now instead of trying to avoid Owen, Ella couldn't get enough of him. Ella turned to Amelia and giggled, "Seh-yee."

"Ha! Very cute," Amelia huffed playfully as she looked for her purse.

Gwendolyn laughed and ordered Owen, "Da, wop!" Wop was Gwen's way of saying 'walk.' She was asking Owen to hold his hands out so she could grasp them and attempt to walk. She tried to walk on the bed, her legs sinking into the blankets as she stepped.

Smiling as she watched Owen help Gwen, Amelia asked, "Really? You'll be ok?"

"I'll be fine," A shirtless Owen stated with boredom as he sat in bed propped up with pillows. This time, he didn't even look at her.

"What if you're walking to the bathroom and fall?" Amelia fretted.

Owen laughed, "Amelia… Please. I will be fine."

"You worry me," Amelia stated as she leaned down to kiss him. Owen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto the bed for a more extended kiss. Giggling, Amelia insisted she would be late if he didn't let her go.

"You're no fun," he kidded as he helped her stand up.

Amelia and the twins left for the hospital just before 10:00am. Lynne had the day off and had left the previous day to visit a friend. Owen would be home alone until Sarah brought the older kids home from school a little after 3. For five hours, Owen would be in the house alone and without assistance. Although Amelia was concerned about the logistics challenge, Owen was elated.

Once Amelia and the girls had driven away, Owen wasn't sure what to do with himself. He wanted to take full advantage of the solitude – not just any solitude, but solitude at home. That was a rare occurrence. He hopped out of bed using his crutches and headed to the Living Room. He turned on some music and powered up the surround sound. If he'd wanted to converse with someone, they would have had to yell to hear each other. Smiling to himself, Owen was proud of his first accomplishment of the day. He planned to leave the music on all day.

He made his way to the kitchen and decided to eat ice cream for breakfast while he sang along with the lyrics he could recall and balanced himself against the counter. Next, he opened the patio door, and the dogs came bounding inside looking for breakfast. Owen didn't know where their bowls were, so he simply poured some dog food on the kitchen floor. He felt like a kid who'd been left unsupervised for the first time. He was nearly giddy about his newfound freedom.

After 30 minutes of breaking rules, Owen realized his day was going to turn out to be far more boring than he'd anticipated. He had already completed all the tasks he had hoped to accomplish: an unhealthy breakfast, loud music in a style of his own choosing, and making a few messes. There was nobody there to keep him company, and it was too cold to sit outside on the patio. He attempted to brainstorm some ideas for how he would pass the time, thinking to himself, _I could read, I could check email and otherwise waste time on my phone, or I could get dressed, bundle up, go outside, and play fetch with the dogs._ And then the revelation occurred. He would play X-box all day without anyone else begging for a turn. He'd choose a violent game Amelia would never allow the kids to see or play, and he could yell at the game as loudly as his heart desired. Paradise. The time passed quickly as he navigated Call of Duty and yelled when the outcomes didn't go his way.

At 1:00pm, he forced himself to take a break for lunch. Amelia sent a text, _Hey handsome. Everything going well? Heading into surg. Xxoo. _

He sent a reply, _all is fine. Have only fallen six times. Only one newly broken bone. No worries – Seattle Pres took great care of me._

_Ha! _Amelia texted back.

After two more hours of Call of Duty, Owen forced himself to turn it off. After all, the rule was no screens during the week. He didn't want the kids catching him.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, as Sarah and the kids arrived, Finley requested to be let out by the gate. He wanted to show Nai the treehouse that Derek, Jackson and Alex built. Bronwyn and Oliver wanted to go to the treehouse also, but Sarah reminded Oliver that he had some homework to complete and reminded Bronwyn that she needed to practice for dance class. Sarah drove Oliver and Bronwyn the rest of the way to the house, greeted Owen, then left to do the family's grocery shopping and errands.

Meanwhile, Finley and Nai stood at the base of the tree, looking at the treehouse. They were both wearing their school uniforms, so climbing up the tree seemed a tad inadvisable. "I was hoping to show you the inside, but we'd have to climb up in our good clothes. What do you think?" Finley asked.

"I forgot to bring a change of clothes, so I'm stuck in this all day anyway. Let's go for it," Nai urged. "I'm just a little afraid of falling though."

"I'll climb up right after you so I can help you if you have any trouble," Finley offered with sincerity. In the moment, the thought that he'd be able to see up her short skirt was not on his radar. He was truly offering to help her feel safe.

Nai began to climb and nervously giggled as she reached higher and higher. Finley was distracted by his surprise view and would have been no help if Nai had needed a hand. They both reached the top and climbed into the treehouse.

The guys had really gone overboard – the house had a door and cut outs where they planned to add windows. The windows would let in light and allow the kids to use the treehouse usable even when it was raining outside. Little by little, the kids had brought blankets, pillows, and other items up to the treehouse. Finley and Oliver really wanted a few bean bag chairs inside, but they hadn't figured out how to safely climb up while holding them.

"Are you cold?" Finley asked as he tended his girlfriend.

Nai smiled, "Actually, a little bit."

Finley responded with a sweet grin, "Stand up." She stood up and looked at him inquisitively. Finley stretched out a blanket as he widened his arms and he wrapped her up. Conveniently, he ended up hugging her once the blanket placement occurred. The two giggled as Nai sat down on the floor and encouraged him to join her.

Finley stretched out on the floor of the treehouse, using another blanket as padding. Nai followed suit, so the two ended up side-by-side sharing a pile of pillows and staring at the ceiling.

"I like to come up here to be alone and get away from the house. It's always so noisy there," Finley mused aloud.

Giggling, Nai responded, "Isn't that funny? I like to come over to your house because it's not creepy quiet like my house."

"Somewhere in between would be nice, wouldn't it?" Finley chuckled. Nai shuffled around trying to get comfortable. Without chatting, Finley rearranged the pillows and slid his arm under Nai's neck. With her heart beating fast, she was tucked into his grasp. They turned toward each other, he leaned over and they kissed three times. As Finley gently slid his tongue onto her lips during the third kiss, Nai giggled nervously. She pulled away but kissed his cheek to attempt to make the moment less awkward. Then she lay flat on her back with Finley's arm once again around her.

"Remember at dinner the other night when you said you'd tell me about Bronwyn's wish? She wished that her parents would be her guests. What was that about?" Nai asked as she held his hand and traced his fingers.

After a few seconds of silence, Finley began, "You know my dad – the one here that I live with?" Nai nodded her head. "He is actually my bio mom's cousin. My bio mom was an only child but had a ton of cousins. My dad – this one – is an only child too, and I guess they were pretty close growing up. The whole thing gets kind of confusing."

"I think I'm following," Nai assured him. "Keep going."

"I was born in Victoria, BC in Canada. Oliver and Bronwyn were too. Our dad, Blake, was a firefighter and died in a building collapse when I was in 1st grade. Oliver was really little – I think he was 2 or 3 - and my mom was pregnant with Bronwyn. Everyone always tells me that Oliver and I look just like our dad," Finley explained.

"Wow, Finley, that's so sad," Nai responded as she stroked his hair.

Finley shrugged, "Yeah, I guess it is. I dunno…it just feels normal to me – it's my story." Then he continued, "My bio mom, her name was Kayla, she was really great. She was playful and fun. Her mood was almost always upbeat even though she was raising us alone. She had red hair like Bronwyn's and a big, happy smile. I really miss her sometimes."

"I'll bet you do," Nai affirmed with a sad expression. "I can't imagine losing my mom, Finley. What happened to her?

Finley continued, "When I was 11, she was in a car accident and died right there. It was so weird – we saw her in the morning, she told us she loved us, and we kissed her goodbye. Then, we got home from school and she was dead. Gone. Uncle Owen – well, my Dad – he came up and stayed with us and did a bunch of paperwork with the bank and lawyers and other people. He and Aunt Amelia had just gotten married…like maybe 3 or 4 months earlier. They adopted us because my mom had a will that said that was what she wanted if anything ever happened to her."

"So, you're actually Canadian? That's kind of cool," Naomi commented.

Finley grinned, "I think the three of us are citizens because our new mom and dad who adopted us are. Honestly, I'm guessing that's how it works."

"Was it hard to move here and to have new parents? That must have been kinda strange," Nai wondered aloud.

"Aunt Amelia and Uncle Owen had just been up to visit us – she was speaking at some big conference. We already knew Uncle Owen. He had visited us from the time I was little and always played soccer with me and Oliver. I remember thinking how fun he was because he'd always let us attack him and climb on him and stuff. My bio mom told me once that she was sad for him because he really, really wanted kids, but his wife didn't," Finley explained.

"Your mom now didn't want kids?! What did she do when you came to live here?" Nai asked with surprise.

Finley chuckled, "Oh, no. Sorry. My dad was married before he was married to my mom. She lives in Switzerland now and is a famous doctor. I've met her, she's pretty cool."

"You had me worried for a minute. I thought your new mom didn't want you guys," Nai shared.

Finley continued, "I think she did – she was really loving from the beginning. She was either already pregnant with the twins or got pregnant just after we moved here. I can't remember all that. She wanted kids, but she was in the hospital all the time when she was pregnant. Dad hired Lynne, but it was weird to think how we'd gone from my bio mom to a nanny and huge house. Our house in Canada is nice but it's not fancy. I'll take you there someday." He squeezed Nai's hand and smiled.

"How come you don't ever talk about your other parents or about moving here?" Nai asked.

Finley grimaced, "I dunno. Sometimes people look at me kind of funny when they hear the story – like they're really, really sad for me. That makes me feel weird. Plus, this is my life now and it's good. It's not a secret or anything, it just takes a lot of time to explain."

The two continued talking and occasionally kissing. They discussed Finley's new classes and funny stories about school. As they chatted and relaxed, they both drifted off to sleep. Finley's arm was snuggly around Nai's shoulders as they napped.

* * *

Back at the house, Oliver was finishing his homework and Bronwyn was eating a snack. Owen was chattier than usual because he'd been so lonely earlier in the day. The afternoon was full of interaction. Bronwyn practiced dance with her dad as the audience. Oliver and Owen played and cheated their way through a game of Battleship, complete with Owen offering sound effects with each miss and hit. Each time a piece was 'sunk,' Owen whistled Taps. Oliver tried to whistle along, but only had the lung power to occasionally join in.

Around 4:30, Oliver and Bronwyn started asking what they could do next. Owen was just as bored but wasn't about to use that word. Whenever Amelia heard the word uttered by one of the kids, she had a motherly knack for finding an extra chore or task. She'd successfully trained the entire family to avoid the word 'bored.' As the three tried to come up with options, Owen reached for a stray piece of thread sitting on the carpet. Almost unconsciously, he kept winding the thread around his fingers and tying intricate knots. The kids watched with intrigue, trying to figure out his method. Suddenly, Bronwyn jumped up and bounced as she announced, "I know! I know! Let's play hopspital!"

Both Oliver and Owen shrugged in agreement. "Desert hospital or Seattle hospital?" Oliver asked.

Owen suggested they stick with Seattle. He had Oliver drag in the med bag from the car and told Bronwyn to go gather a bunch of stuffed animals. They would be the patients. "Are you an attending, a resident, or a nurse?" Owen asked the kids. After explaining that the attendings were more in charge, Bronwyn insisted on being one. Oliver wanted to be a resident because, he reasoned, he was going to learn from his dad while they played. In response, Owen shared that residents often learn more from nurses than from anyone else, so he declared that he'd be a nurse.

Bronwyn lined all the animals up. She and Oliver were going to take turns deciding what was wrong with each patient.

Just like he did many times a day at the hospital, Owen bellowed, "Whatta we got?" While not normally a line for a nurse, he figured he had to get the scene rolling.

"Stuffed cow with a cut-up lip," Bronwyn explained.

Owen prompted, "When you do the bullets, you have to say how old they are, how they hurt themselves, and give their blood pressure numbers. A regular BP is 110/70."

"Ok," Bronwyn nodded definitively, "Stuffed cow with a cut-up lip. He tried to climb the wire fence and it collapseded on his face. Three years old. BP 1000/7."

Doing his best not to crack up, Owen asked Oliver, "Dr. Hunt, what should we do?"

"Let's shine a really bright light in his face to make sure there's no wires in there. Then we'll give him stitches," Oliver declared.

"Does he get any medicine to numb his lip first?" Owen asked.

"Give him lots of Tylenol," Bronwyn ordered. "And listen to his heart, Resident Oliver."

Owen handed Oliver the stethoscope and Oliver placed it on the cow. "Yep, his heart's good. Let's stitch him up."

"You get to do it, Resident. It's how you learn. Dr. Bronwyn and I will be right here to help," Owen explained. Owen walked him through two stitches and then had him try a few on his own. Oliver actually had fairly impressive dexterity and skill.

"What's next?" Owen called out.

"Oh! Oh! My turn," Oliver hollered. He reached over and grabbed an old stuffed frog whose leg was limp from years of being carried by the foot. All of his leg stuffing had worn into pieces. "Let's cut off this one's leg. It doesn't work anymore."

"I want to give the medicine shot," Bronwyn insisted.

Owen handed her a syringe without a needle, "Here you go, doctor."

"We need to get this one up to sir-grr-ee NOW." Bronwyn explained. Owen taught her to say STAT for now before handing each of them one of his surgical caps, a set of gloves, and masks. He sent Oliver to go get their 'scalpels' (aka butter knives) out of the silverware drawer.

As they lay on the floor operating, Owen declared, "It's not looking good. I think he's got gangrene throughout his body. See how green all of his skin is?" Owen found his play on words hilarious. The kids didn't even catch the pun.

"That's serious!" Bronwyn screamed. "You better put that air pump thingy on his mouth." Owen handed her a bag and showed her how to press it.

Owen inquired, "Should we intubate, Dr. Bronwyn?"

"Nah…just give him a band aid and he'll be ok," Bronwyn ordered.

Out of nowhere, Ella and Gwen approached and jumped on their dad. Owen looked back, spotted Amelia and asked, "How long have you been standing there? I didn't even hear the garage door."

Grinning, she responded, "Since the 1000/7 BP reading. Man, that cow is in a world of trouble. How are his post-op sats?"

"Mommy, look at us. We're all dressed for sir-grr-ee!" Bronwyn declared with gloves 8 times the size of her hands and a mask that covered nearly all of her face. Owen's green scrub cap hung loosely on her head but looked fantastic against her red hair. And I'm a Pretending, so I'm in charge like Daddy."

"A Pretending?" Amelia giggled. "Do you mean Attending?"

"Sure," Bronwyn shrugged with a flutter of her eyelids.

"Interchangeable terms, I think," Owen laughed.

Oliver interjected, "And I'm a resident, so I'm learning. Nurse Dad taught me how to do stitches. What does resident mean anyway? Isn't a resident someone who lives somewhere? Like they live at the hospital or something?"

Simultaneously, Amelia and Owen answered, "Pretty much."

"Where's Finley?" Amelia inquired as she scanned the room.

"Him and Nai are at the treehouse," Oliver announced.

"Really? Can you please go get them and tell them pizza's here?" Amelia requested. She turned to Bronwyn and Owen, instructing as if she were speaking to two children, "Bron, go put all your patients in the waiting room in your room. Owen, clean up your supplies and put them in your med bag." She winked after her last statement.

Owen kicked his left leg down on the floor, "Buuuuuuutttttt… I don't want to. They made the mess. Not me."

"Yeah, right. Clean up the OR, Nurse Daddy," she teased. "I'll leave you some pizza in the break room."


	11. My Father, My Hero

**_Chapter 11: My Father, My Hero _**

When Oliver climbed up to the treehouse, he gasped loudly enough to wake Finley and Naomi. "You guys are sleeping together! You're not 'posed to do that. I'm telling." Oliver scurried down and ran to the house.

Finley rolled his eyes and grinned at Nai, "I guess we crashed. It's no big deal. He thinks 'sleeping together' means actually sleeping." Leaning over, Finley gave Nai a peck on the cheek.

Nai drew her shoulders in and pursed her lips, "I'm still kinda embarrassed. Are we going to be in trouble?"

Shrugging without worry, Finley assured her, "If they're mad, they probably won't say anything until after you leave. If they say something to your mom, just remember that Oliver doesn't know what he's saying. We didn't do anything wrong…just tell the truth."

* * *

Completely out of breath, Oliver burst through the front door and announced, "Mom! Dad! Finley and Naomi were sleeping together!"

Amelia looked up and moved her chin toward her shoulder as her eyebrows fell in confusion. Owen, now lying on the couch checking email on his phone, looked back over his shoulder and stated, "Excuse me?"

Still out of breath, Oliver sputtered out, "I…uh… I went to the… treehouse… and…"

"Wait. Oliver, take a couple deep breaths and settle down," Amelia prompted.

Owen mumbled softly, "He was just getting to the good part, Mia." Amelia offered a sly grin and a subtle shake of her head.

"Ok…ok," Oliver declared as he took audible deep breaths. He continued, "I got to the tree and their backpacks were on the ground. I yelled up for them to come to dinner, but nobody answered. So, then I climbed up and saw that they were asleep together. Finley had his arm around Nai and she was all curled up in her own blanket. They were sleeping together and that's not ok, is it?"

Chuckling, Owen responded, "Nai was wrapped in one blanket and Finley was wrapped in another separate one?"

"No, he was lying on top of a different blanket next to her. She was all wrapped up in her own blanket," Oliver clarified as if he was sharing crime scene details with a detective.

Amelia assured Oliver, "Thanks, Ollie. Dad and I have it from here. Go wash your hands and come back down to dinner." Oliver ran up the stairs as fast as he could. He was off to find Bronwyn before dinner and share the scandalous news. Few experiences were sweeter than telling one sibling about the other sibling getting in trouble.

Meanwhile, Finley and Nai came through the front door. He promised to walk in first and to do the talking. Nai's stomach was in knots both out of fear and embarrassment.

Amelia glanced up from slicing tomatoes and greeted, "Hey, guys." The twins were already in their highchairs eating Cheerios and babbling to one another.

"Hi," Finley responded as he walked up to his mom and uncharacteristically hugged her. He walked to the fridge and pulled out two Gatorades, then handed one to Nai.

"Hi," Nai said meekly with discomfort written all over her face as she awkwardly waved her hand close to her chest.

Gwen called out, "Nai! Nai!" Naomi walked over, thankful for the distraction, and said hello to the twins. Amelia, smiling, handed Nai two bowls and implied non-verbally that each twin needed one.

"Here, girls. Mmm…yummy, what are you having for dinner?" Nai asked the girls as she sat on the edge of Amelia's seat at the table.

Owen turned his head toward Finley, "Where have you two been?"

"Up at the tree house," Finley shared with utter nonchalance as he walked to his spot at the table.

"Hands, please," Amelia reminded. "Just use our bathroom – it'll be quicker."

"Right," Finley grinned. "Oh, hey, Dad. I'm supposed to give you this," Finley remembered as he dug through his backpack and found a sealed envelope from Mrs. Tonnington.

Owen glanced at the return address and wondered what the hell the Principal was mad about now. "Hmm… thanks, Fin."

Nai delayed in following Finley. When she did stand up, she leaned close to Owen, whispering, "It's good news. He won a big award at school today."

"What is it?" Amelia inquired as she carried the pizza and sliced tomatoes to the table.

"A sealed envelope from Tonnington. Nai says it's good news," Owen shrugged as he set it on the coffee table.

"Open it," Amelia urged with wide eyes and a smile full of anticipation.

"I will. After dinner. I'm hungry, let's eat," Owen stated as he began to stand up and make his way to the table with the help of his crutches. Amelia's mouth was agape as she returned to the kitchen to pour milk for the kids.

Oliver and Bronwyn came bumbling down the stairs and ran to their spots at the table. Owen raised his eyebrows seriously as they fell over each other trying to pull out their chairs. Clearing his throat was all it took for Owen to communicate that they needed to re-try their approach and come to the table calmly. Amelia observed as the two walked back to the stairs and re-attempted their approach. She yearned for that level of influence.

Finley and Nai returned and sat down at the table. Oliver looked at Finley and feebly tried not to laugh. Absolutely certain that Finley would be in big trouble, Oliver couldn't help but gloat. Bronwyn, having heard Oliver's big news, looked at Nai with skepticism as if she were saying, _"And I thought I knew you…"_

"Nai gets to pick the game tonight," Owen declared.

Not liking attention placed upon her, Nai sat back in her seat and responded, "Uhh… highs and lows?" It was the first conversation starter that came to mind, so she blurted it out.

"Do you want to start?" Amelia asked.

"Sure," Nai agreed. "My low was that it rained during break so we were all stuck inside. My high," she paused as she looked lovingly toward Finley, "was seeing Finley get a big award at school today."

"Really?" Amelia followed up. "Tell us about the award, Nai."

Finley tried to make light of his accomplishment as he shrugged and shared, "Everyone in the whole school wrote an essay. Mine won some state contest. It's nothing."

"Not just any contest," Nai nudged Finley's upper arm.

"Nai…stop it. I don't want it to be a big deal," Finley mumbled to his girlfriend.

"But it's super cool news," Nai retorted.

Owen interjected, "What's super cool?" Nai looked at Finley with a wifely glance that communicated, _either you tell them, or I will._

"The President is going to be here on President's Day, and I have to read my essay at some event he'll be at," Finley shared before stuffing in a huge bite of pizza.

"What?!" Owen smiled. "Finley, that _is _a big deal. Congratulations."

"Wow!" Amelia mumbled as she swallowed a bite of pizza.

Finley wanted to turn the spotlight to someone else. Knowing Bronwyn would gladly speak about her day, Finley asked, "Bron – what's your high and low?"

"Ummm…my high was that me and Oliver and Daddy playeded hopspital and I got to be the Pretending Doctor and Daddy let me wear one of his _real _scrub hats. My low was that the gloves were way, way, way, way too big for my hands. Mama – you go next."

Amelia nodded, "Let's see...my high? I ate lunch with Uncle Derek and Auntie Mer. That was nice. I also had a really great surgery this afternoon that went very well. My low was getting stuck in traffic on the way home from work. Finley?"

Hoping he'd been counted as having gone since he spoke earlier, Finley sighed internally and offered, "My high was spending time with Nai after school. My low was…hmm…I don't think I really had a low today. Oliver?"

Puffing up and really wanting to say that his high was getting his brother in trouble, Oliver claimed, "My high was same as Bronwyn's. We had fun playing hospital with Dad and he taught me how to do some stitches. My low was having to do a bunch of homework when I got home. Dad?"

"Why did you have so much homework, Ollie?" Owen asked gently but firmly knowing that Oliver had probably goofed off and brought it on himself.

"Just that kind of day, I guess," Oliver shrugged with a grin.

As dinner concluded, Owen and Amelia made their way to the couch as the kids went about clearing and cleaning the table and kitchen. She was sorting through mail and he was about to open the Principal's letter. Amelia casually handed Owen some sort of official looking government envelope, "Here, this one's yours."

"Thanks," Owen grasped it and put it on his lap without looking at it. He opened Mrs. Tonnington's letter and read that Finley's essay was about his hero. He had won not only the school and area award, but also the statewide award. In addition to a scholarship that would be reserved for college, he was invited to read his essay at an event on President's Day. The contents of the envelope included the cover letter with basic information, a form to return confirming the family's attendance at the event, a basic background consent since the President would be in attendance, a sheet with directions to the event that would be held at McChord, and a copy of Finley's essay.

Owen thumbed through the papers, finally coming to the copy of the essay. He read the first paragraph and stopped. Handing the paper to Amelia, Owen choked up and suggested, "I don't think I can read this right now, but you might want to see it."

**The essay began:**

**_My Hero_**

**_by Finley Hunt_**

**_A hero is defined as "a person of character who, in the face of danger and adversity or from a position of weakness, displays courage or self-sacrifice." Most people deeply admire but never meet their hero. I am fortunate, because I know my hero well. My hero is my dad, Major Owen Hunt, M.D., U.S. Army._**

Owen moved on to the envelope from the Army that Amelia had just handed him. After unfolding the letter, he squinted to read the small type. "Here," Amelia groaned as she handed Owen her drugstore reading glasses and reminded him, "You really need to get your eyes examined."

Shrugging, Owen put the glasses on and read. The letter was from Lieutenant General Rollins of the Pentagon. At first, Owen assumed the next paragraphs would be leaning on him to accept the job at the Pentagon that had been offered to him previously. He lightly perused the rest of the letter until he came to the part about being awarded a Purple Heart. Sitting up in his seat, Owen leaned toward the letter and learned that he, along with Risa (posthumously), would be awarded a Purple Heart by the President at McChord on President's Day. April was set to receive a civilian award at the event as well. The President wanted to focus upon the medics and medical personnel that often go unnoticed.

"Holy crap…" Owen muttered.

Amelia, teary, looked up from Finley's essay and asked, "What?"

"Check this out – guess I'll be at the President's Day event for sure. My presence is being commanded," Owen breathed out loudly as he handed Amelia the letter and rested his head on the back of the couch.

"Wow. Owen, I'm so proud. Proud of you both," Amelia proclaimed as he leaned over and hugged her husband. "And you really need to read this, but I'd suggest you go in the bedroom and read it alone."

Minutes later, Owen rested on his bed and read Finley's entire essay.

**_My Hero_**

_by Finley Hunt_

_A hero is defined as "a person of character who, in the face of danger and adversity or from a position of weakness, displays courage or self-sacrifice." Most people deeply admire but never meet their hero. I am fortunate, because I know my hero well. My hero is my dad, Major Owen Hunt, M.D., U.S. Army._

_My dad fits the above definitions of a hero. After the bombing of the World Trade Center buildings, my dad enlisted in the Army to share his abilities as a trauma surgeon. He served in Iraq for five years. Even though he could have experienced safety and security by remaining a civilian, my dad courageously faced danger by offering medical care in the warring desert._

_Being a hero, though, doesn't always mean serving in a war. Sometimes, it means dealing with the unexpected. Shortly after their wedding, my mom, Amelia, and my dad adopted three children: my three-year-old sister, my seven-year-old brother, and me. I was eleven and our biological mother, Kayla, had just died in a car accident. Our biological father, Blake, a firefighter, had died four years earlier in a building collapse. Since our parents were both gone, our new parents adopted us. We became a family._

_Dad and our biological mom were cousins, and my siblings and I had grown up knowing Dad as Uncle Owen. Uncle Owen rushed to be with us and to take care of us when our biological mother died. Even though it was easy for us to tell that our new dad had never been a Dad before, my siblings and I knew for sure that he loved us and would always be our family._

_Just a few months ago, my dad volunteered for another tour. Unexpectedly, he ended up in Sudan. He ran a clinic that helped soldiers and local residents with everything from immunizations to grenade wounds. He and his team saved hundreds of lives._

_One day, their OR was attacked, and Dad was thrown to the ground. Even though one of the attackers had his foot on top of my dad's head, Dad ordered them to stop attacking one of his personnel. In retaliation, he was kicked violently, shot once in the abdomen and twice in the leg. When Dad came home, he had trouble moving and walking. Watching him go through the pain of physical therapy has made him my hero in a new way. He is determined to heal and to return to his work as a doctor._

_In my opinion, being a hero means doing what needs to be done even if sacrifice is involved. My dad understands that in his family life, professional life, and military life. As a trauma surgeon at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital in Seattle, my dad often works unusual and long hours to help people whose lives have been changed by a surprise accident, a diagnosis, or a death. As a soldier, doctor, and father, my dad is my hero._


	12. Upside of Anger

**Finley James Hunt**: 13-years-old

**Oliver Blake Hunt**: 9-years-old

**Bronwyn Kate Hunt**: 5-years-old

**Ella Ray Hunt**: 1-year-old

**Gwendolyn Sarah Hunt**: 1-year-old

**Baby Boy Hunt**: 5.5 months gestation

* * *

**_Chapter 12: Upside of Anger_**

**_Shaping up and shipping out_**

Owen and Amelia had been meeting regularly with Michael, a psychologist who specialized in working with couples and families, since their weekend away shortly after Owen's return. Compassionate yet also able to name the truth as he saw it, Michael seemed to know just how far to prod and push before backing away. In each session, they explored the struggles of deployment and re-entry a bit more deeply than the last.

"How's everyone today?" Michael began the session as he settled into his chair and set his notepad on his lap.

"This was the day I was originally scheduled to return home," Owen shared with a faraway glance.

"Oh, Owen, you're right," Amelia responded when the date was pointed out. "I remember thinking your return date was so odd because, by returning on the 15th, you'd miss all the kids' birthdays."

"Thanks, Amelia," Owen grumbled with irritation.

Michael intervened, "I'm not sure Amelia was intending to upset you, Owen. Amelia, what was your intent when you responded?"

Amelia grimaced and looked up at the fluorescent light to her right, "Umm… it was just a statement of fact. I remember finding it odd, like I said, when I first found out the date. Owen, I wasn't attempting to rub your nose in it. Not at all." In response, Owen shrugged his shoulders and mumbled 'whatever' under his breath.

**_When you think of love, do you think of pain?_**

Michael prodded, "Owen, I'm intrigued by your response. In terms of your family, do you feel guilty about missing the kids' birthdays? About your deployment?"

"Guilty? No, not guilty," Owen responded thoughtfully. "Guilty is a strong word. I mean, I didn't do something criminal. My actions were not reprehensible. Depending who you ask, my actions were courageous… commendable. Hell, our oldest son saw them as heroic."

"What do _you _say, Owen? What are _your _feelings in terms of how the deployment impacted your family?" Michael prodded.

"Feelings? There are many, I suppose. Hopefully balanced with a large dose of humility, I'm proud to have served. I'm touched deeply and blown away by Finley's essay and the upcoming ceremony. In the beginning, I was conflicted about feeling a need to stay here and a need to serve overseas. I'm disappointed that I wasn't here for the baby's ultrasounds. In some ways, especially in terms of the kids, I suppose I feel regret – it seems like I missed so much of their lives. I regret being away."

Deeply hurt, Amelia stated softly, "What about in terms of our marriage, Owen? What about in terms of your wife? The mother of your children?"

Owen was completely puzzled, "What do you mean, Mia? I just described that?"

"No. No, you didn't," Amelia alleged gently with a shake of her head.

"Yes, I did," Owen responded calmly and with confusion.

Michael intervened, "Owen, you might not have noticed the words you chose. The kids were mentioned and the baby. The other points were about your own experience. Amelia, what did you feel when you heard the statement?"

**_Well hold on, my darling_**

**_This mess was yours,_**

**_Now your mess is mine_**_._

"I felt," Amelia sighed with exasperation, "as if I were a given. As if I would tolerate whatever occurred and would remain steadfast. Good ole Amelia, she'll put up with whatever happens, she's here to stay. I felt taken for granted."

"Oh, Mia…" Owen started as he reached out his hand toward Amelia's. She swept her hand into her lap before he could make contact. "Mia, I didn't mean that. I'm deeply grateful for all you've done for me and for our family throughout this entire process. I… I am acutely aware of the sacrifices you've made. Every day, I'm thankful for you. Truly."

"Have you told her that before today?" Michael prompted.

"Umm…" Owen muttered. "I'm sure I have."

"Owen, I sometimes feel forgotten because it seems like you simply assume my presence and support in your life. Lately, I feel like a bit player, a supporting actress in the story of Owen Hunt," Amelia attempted to clarify.

"Shouldn't we both be able to assume we will be there for one another, Mia?" Owen asked with gentle surprise. "And… and… I don't even know if I should say this. I'm not trying to fight here or play tit-for-tat, but the spotlight was most certainly on you and your speaking engagements when we were first married. Being a bit player suited me just fine. Was I supposed to stay in that role?" Owen asked with pained sincerity.

"I suppose I never knew you felt like a bit player then, Owen. I'm sorry I inconvenienced you," Amelia said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Amelia… I never said I was inconvenienced by standing behind you as you stood in the spotlight. Hell, I loved it. I was so proud to be your husband, to know you, to be with you. I think you just misunderstood my point," Owen tried to calmly clarify.

Folding her arms and sighing heavily, Amelia gazed toward the ceiling. She knew she was either going to remain quiet or explode. Feeling an escalating frustration, she chose to stay mute.

Michael pointed out, "Owen, if I heard you correctly, you were trying to convey that your roles have varied at different points in your marriage. Does that capture your thoughts?"

"Yes," Owen confirmed. He looked at Amelia whose gaze remained upward, "Mia, I was not complaining. I was simply pointing out that we've both had times where the focus was on the other."

"Ok," Amelia whispered, "I hear you. I'm sorry I became reactive."

"What's going on for you right now, Amelia?" Michael asked her gently. "What's behind the reactivity?" Amelia closed her eyes and shook her head.

Owen, unable to help himself, intervened and asked curiously and from the heart, "Mia, are you upset about all the fuss with the medal ceremony?"

"No, Owen. I'm proud of you. I'm extraordinarily proud of Finley. On President's Day, I am most certainly a supporting actress and I wouldn't have it any other way," Amelia declared.

"Then what?" Owen inquired with a slight hint of frustration. "Did I do something? I can't address it if you don't talk about it. Are you upset with some situation? We can't deal with that unless we name it."

**_Bring me to your house and tell me "sorry for the mess_**_"_

After a few moments of silence, Amelia began, "You know, the kids and I did pretty well when you were away. You came back and simply assumed you could rush in and "save" me from the burdens that exceeded my abilities."

Owen shook his head and looked at Michael, stating simply, "I… I don't even know what that means…"

"Ask Amelia," Michael prompted.

"Mia, I don't know what you were trying to say just then. I didn't get it," Owen clarified.

Amelia sighed, "Owen, when you returned, you immediately inserted yourself right back into being the firm and commanding parent. While you were gone, I fulfilled that role. The message I took in was that you didn't think I was capable of being the heavy, that you were doing me a favor by resuming the role. Instead, you could've just enjoyed your initial time with the kids and re-bonded."

"We're back to that?" Owen stewed. "Back to 'be their dad, Owen, but don't parent.' I don't know how to do that, Mia. I don't know what that looks like."

"It means you could've deferred to me to deal with discipline rather than roaring, giving firm looks, having talks or otherwise dealing with the kids' when they've misbehaved," Amelia explained.

Without intending to be problematic, Owen sputtered in disbelief and let out a shocked huff.

"What…was…that?" Amelia inquired pointedly.

"I guess I was surprised. I mean, that's the role I've always had with the kids. I'm the heavy. I don't always like it but it's like charting – it's an unlikable but necessary part of the process," Owen asserted.

Amelia turned away from the back of the couch a quarter turn. "Owen," she conveyed slowly, "that's exactly what I'm trying to point out. Listen. I was the heavy while you were gone and, for the most part, the kids responded to that. When you came home and jumped back into the role without asking me if I wanted you to intervene, do you know what the kids thought? They thought, 'Dad's home. He's the one we _really _need to listen to and take seriously.' You took away my authority by intervening. If I'm dealing with some issue with one of the kids, let me see it through. I promise I will find you or involve you if I feel the need."

Owen stuttered, "I was just doing what I've always done, Mia. I was just trying to help, trying to make things easier for you."

"And I appreciate that, Owen, I really do. I am thankful for your positive intentions. However, the consequences outweigh the loving intentions," Amelia explained.

Still attempting to fully understand her, Owen responded, "Ok. I'll… I'll work on that."

**_You're the reason that I feel so strong, the reason that I'm hanging on…_**

**_You still make sense to me; your mess is mine_**

Michael tapped his pen on his notepad as he thought to himself. "Amelia… is that really what's brewing for you under the surface? Is your upset about authority with the kids? Throughout the last few sessions, I've sensed… anger. Are you angry with Owen?"

Amelia looked out the 10th floor window and pursed her lips tightly.

"Amelia?" Michael attempted.

Flatly and without emotion, Amelia stated, "I'm not sure I'm ready to go there."

"Amelia, if you're mad at me, just tell me. How can we work this out if I don't even know what's going on?" Owen prodded.

With dead calm and seriousness, Amelia stated with staccato words, "I am furious that you came home injured. I didn't want you to leave in the first place. During your entire deployment, I was terrified you wouldn't return. Then, instead of a pleasant, 'let's put all this behind us now' return, the suffering, adjustments and accommodations just kept coming and keep happening."

Owen looked down as he drew his lips inside his mouth. He attempted to breathe away the glistening in his eyes but was unsuccessful. Slowly, he looked directly at his wife and choked out softly and sincerely, "Thank you for telling me, for being honest."

Letting the silence linger, Michael studied his patients. With his injured leg extended, Owen was sitting on the edge of the couch with his left knee bent. He balanced both forearms on the left knee as he leaned forward and looked at the carpet. Amelia slightly rocked forward and back with her feet on the couch, her knees bent toward her chest, and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her chin rested on her knees. Their body language silently screamed how they were both shutting down.

Michael inquired gently. "Owen, how difficult was that to hear?"

"Hard," Owen barely uttered. "Yeah, umm… wow."

"It was difficult," Michael repeated hoping to draw Owen's feelings out.

Clearing his throat, Owen continued looking at the carpet. Silence. He wasn't sure _what_ to say, and he wasn't sure he was _capable _of saying anything.

"Amelia used some strong words. I think she's held them inside for a long time," Michael observed.

"I… I…" Owen attempted to respond. As he rested his hand over his mouth and chin, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Amelia, you selected some intense words: furious, enraged, radically and significantly affected. Tell me more," Michael prodded.

"What more is there to say, Michael? I feel like I just threw an exploding grenade in here. I should have kept my mouth closed. Saying all that just made everything worse. I didn't mean to hurt you, Owen," Amelia sighed with regret.

"Did your description, your choice of words, accurately reflect the intensity of your feelings?" Michael sought to confirm.

Weakly, Amelia confirmed, "Yeah."

"Then I'm not sure it was an exploding grenade," Michael suggested.

"Sure, as hell felt like one to me," Owen insisted.

"Hmm…" Michael mused. "Let me share an observation. You've both discussed a tendency to run away when life becomes too much. If we term Amelia's words to be an "exploding grenade," maybe that makes them easier for us to ignore. We can see them as a surprise attack, as explosive, as something to escape. However, I'm not sure avoiding them or escaping from them will be helpful." The silence lingered. Michael didn't want to drive the conversation at this point. He threw a bone out for them to chew on; now, we wanted to see who might begin chewing on it.

"I… Mia… I… I didn't _choose _to come home injured," Owen stated flatly. "Aaaaa…and…. I… umm… I _did _seek your input before deciding to deploy."

Amelia continued to barely rock in her curled-up position as she whispered, "I know." Without looking at anything or anyone in particular, she mumbled, "But could my words have stopped you, Owen? I doubt it. And if my words had stopped you, you'd resent me and silently stew for years. Did I _really _have a choice? Did I?"

"I was between a rock and a hard place, Amelia," Owen explained.

"So was I, Owen. And when something became too hard – like raising 5 kids, tending a marriage, and managing a demanding career – you ran. You ran to war where the pace is so quick that processing and reflection is not even an option. If you're off courageously and valiantly saving lives in the field, everyone will perceive that self-sacrificing Owen Hunt is a hero, not a runner," Amelia declared flatly.

Owen huffed in disbelief, "Kind of like how you ran to the guest house after an incredibly difficult day and drank your troubles away? Kind of like when you told me not long ago that you needed to go to the hospital when you didn't? Amelia, I will try to be open to your feedback and insights, but I find it challenging to do so when your accusations against me match your own actions."

"I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being angry," Amelia stated without emotion.

"Keep going," Michael pushed.

Amelia paused and her bottom lip began to quiver, "I'm mad about all the crying. I'm sick of it."

"Tell me about the crying…" Michael prompted.

**_Hold on, my darling. This mess was yours, now your mess is mine._**

"My life is chaos. I cry because I'm scared. I was terrified during the whole deployment. I was afraid Owen wasn't coming home. I'm scared that I'm pregnant and I'm scared that the pregnancy will bring unexpected challenges and bed rest. I'm frightened about having a sixth child. Six. I'm petrified that I might end up alone. I am scared that the man I love will die just like Ryan…just like my dad. Owen, knowing what you know about my life, how could you leave and look yourself in the mirror?"

"Mia…" Owen voiced gently. "If I'd known…If I'd really understood how deeply rooted this is for you, Mia, I wouldn't have gone, and I would not have resented you. I am so incredibly sorry that I didn't see how this experience struck you to the core. Amelia…truly. I apologize." Amelia slowly set her hand on the couch in the space between them. Owen squeezed her hand tightly and rubbed his thumb along the top of it.

Holding his other hand over his face and shaking his head, Owen continued, "I'm furious that I'm injured too. And I'm angry that I can't fully be a partner as a parent right now. I'm pissed that I'm… that we're… experiencing all that comes with injuries and recovery. Amelia… this deployment and the recovery process has taken a toll on each of us and on the kids."

Again, the room was filled with silence. Owen reached over and put his arm around his wife. He rested his chin on her shoulder and begged gently, "Can we be angry about these injuries and this recovery process and all the damn adjustments together? Because I love you more than life, Mia, and I can't imagine having come this far in my recovery without you. You're my inspiration, my encouragement. You've been my strength when I didn't know how I'd persevere. I've watched you quietly and competently manage our family and our lives while I've felt pretty damn useless and like a burden. I don't want to be angry or sad all the time either. We both feel that way, so can we work on those challenges together?"

* * *

**Do you think that things will ever return to normal with Owen and Amelia?**


	13. Presidential Medal Ceremony

**_Chapter 13: Presidential Medal Ceremony_**

_Friday, February 17_

April returned to the exam room and popped the x-ray of Owen's chest and ribs onto the reader, commenting, "Just look! Fantastic." She walked over and palpated Owen's abdomen as Amelia sat next to the exam table, "Chief, how's your pain in this area?"

"Non-existent," Owen shared as his shirtless body rested flat on the exam table. His right hand was under his neck and his left hand rested on Amelia's shoulder.

"Any tenderness?" April asked as she pushed firmly around the gunshot area.

"Nope. Muscle weakness, sure, but that's because I haven't been able to work the muscles in weeks," Owen responded with his eyes gazing toward the ceiling.

"How about here?" she wondered aloud as she palpated along his right side where he'd been kicked.

"Nothing. No tenderness. All the bruising faded a few weeks ago. I'm ready to start ab and back weights. Do I have your go ahead?" Owen sought to clarify.

"Absolutely. One day short of six weeks. Look how far you've come," April celebrated. "I'm signing off the case. Of course, let me know if you experience new pain or symptoms." Extending her hand, April shook both Owen and Amelia's hands. They both thanked her once again for all she'd done for Owen.

"We'll see you on Monday at McChord, huh?" Owen asked as April began to step out.

"Can't wait," April smiled. "I'll find Dr. Torres and send her in."

Callie stepped in a few minutes later, gazing down at the iPad, "Cleared from Gen Surg, huh? Now I've got you all to myself," she kidded.

"Aaahhhh," Owen chuckled.

"Here's where we're at," Callie summarized as she placed the leg x-rays on the reader. "Take a look."

Amelia walked over to get a closer view. Owen stayed on the table, sat up and analyzed what he saw. Callie described her impressions, "The bone bruising is healing well. That's going to be your most annoying and lingering injury, but you already knew that. I'd say it's ahead of schedule in terms of what I'd expect by now. We're going to change the brace out today and begin bending the knee in rehab. You still need to use the crutches, but you can put 15-20% of your weight on the right leg. Back way off if it starts to hurt. As time goes on and if it doesn't hurt, you can periodically try a cane."

"As soon as Monday?" Owen asked hopefully.

"Nah, crutches on Monday. Cane no earlier than a couple weeks from now. Sorry," Callie ordered.

* * *

_Monday, February 20_

The medal ceremony for Owen, Risa, and April was the opening event for a day focused upon military medical providers and their contributions. Behind the scenes, Owen and the President sat in a conference room as they waited for their cue. The President asked Owen all sort of questions about practicing medicine in the field. Finley, wearing his brand-new suit and anticipating speaking in front of a large crowd, was appropriately anxious as he sat next to his dad. Finley would be reading his essay after being introduced by the President.

Amelia, all the kids, Debra, April, Jackson, and Risa's parents were already seated in the front row. Before the President arrived, they had all spent the morning walking through the ceremony. After the ceremony, the President would pose for pictures with the recipients. That evening, the adults would attend a formal reception.

Just before the President and Owen walked to the stage, an aide came in to show Finley to his seat. Owen wrapped Finley in a bear hug and assured his son once again that he'd do well. Encouraging Finley to breathe deeply and slowly, Owen reminded him to catch Amelia's eyes so she could let him know if he was speaking too fast and needed to slow down. The President walked a few steps with Finley and reassured him. He gave him helpful advice that calmed Finley's quickly beating heart in the moment, but Finley wasn't able to remember the advice after the event.

In the presentation room, there were two podiums. The one near the flags and in the back portion of the stage, would be used by anyone other than the President. The other podium, to be used only by the President himself, was placed toward the front of the stage and off to one side. When the ceremony began, Lieutenant General Rollins stood and walked up to the back podium, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States accompanied by Major Owen Hunt, M.D., United States Army." The crowd stood as Hail to the Chief was played. The President paced himself so that Owen, using crutches, could keep up without rushing.

Owen wore his dress uniform and his curls were finally back. His hair, still within acceptable Army standards, now also met Amelia's and Olivia's standards. It peeked out from his formal dark cap that was adorned with a shining gold officer's eagle emblem, gold strap, and embroidered oak leaves. With his crisp white shirt, plain black tie, dark jacket, and blue slacks, Owen's presence was impressive. The gold stripe down the side of his slacks, the shining gold buttons on the jacket, and his perfectly polished black shoes completed the ensemble. Owen's ribbons, name badge, and other medals were perfectly placed according to code. Amelia had told him that morning that she'd never seen a more handsome man in uniform.

The President and Owen stood near the front center of the presentation area as Lt. Gen. Rollins continued, "Attention to orders, the United States of America. This is certify that the President of the United States of America has awarded the Purple Heart, one of the most recognized and respected medals granted in the U.S. Armed Forces, the oldest military award, first established by General George Washington in 1782, to Major Owen Hunt, M.D., United States Army for wounds received in action in Darfur, Sudan during an attack on the medical clinic where he and his team saved the lives of many. Please accept our thanks and eternal gratitude for your service and sacrifice."

The President stepped in front of Owen and pinned the medal onto Owen's uniform, then shook his hand and smiled reassuringly before stepping to the podium. Upon reaching the podium, the President invited the crowd to be seated. As protocol dictated, Owen remained standing where he'd received the medal.

In a commanding and solid voice, the President began, "The man standing here before you today should not be alive. He was shot three times at close range; one bullet barely missed the abdominal wall. I've been told that had the bullet entered a bit differently, Major Hunt would not be here with us now.

In the midst of a deadly attack on the medical clinic where he worked unending hours and managed a medical staff and facility, Major Hunt experienced devastating injuries. Two shots entered his right leg, shattering his patella and causing extensive injuries to his femur. He is working toward regaining his ability to walk and has already come a long way – from not being able to move at the time of the event to walking with me to this stage moments ago. His determination and bravery will inspire others for generations.

Normally at this point, I would provide a summary of the Major's service and a description of the actual events that led to us here today. Instead, we are honored to hear from the Major's son. His words summarize well the Major's service history and details of the attack. Finley come on up," the President invited with a welcoming and warm smile.

As they'd practiced, Finley stood between Owen and the President's podium as the President introduced him. "Recently, schools around the nation participated in a 500-word essay contest where the students wrote about their hero. The students could choose anyone as their hero, living or dead. Finley chose his father. He won his school's competition and went on to win the statewide award. He is the oldest of, well…4 and a half since the family is expecting a baby in July. He is a competent, assured, studious young man with a passion for soccer. His writing ability will astound you as you listen to his essay."

The President insisted that Finley speak from the Presidential podium. During the pinning of the medal, an aide had unobtrusively slipped a riser behind it so Finley could be clearly seen. Finley walked to the podium and thanked the President for the introduction, as had been rehearsed. With a clear and steady voice, Finley began reading. He had practiced so much that he nearly had the essay memorized, which allowed him to look up and make eye contact with his family and the crowd. As he concluded, rather than returning to his seat as had been practiced, Finley spontaneously headed over to Owen. The two-bear hugged and Owen whispered in Finley's ear that he loved him.

The President resumed with charm and a chuckle, "I'm not sure why I'm even trying to follow that. Finley, thank you. Thank you for your courage to read in front of all these people and to share some deep sentiments with us. I can guarantee that your parents are very proud to have you as a son."

Looking out to the crowd, the President continued, "Major Hunt, we recognize you today for your injuries in the field but also for another hard fight – the fight to recovery. This battle, fought one step at a time, has inspired many around you. We also celebrate the incredible dedication and talents of the medical practitioners who had a hand in your treatment and recovery. Some of them are here today and I'd like to ask them to stand." In addition to April, Callie, and Bill (his current Physical Therapist), Mary (the CNA from Djibouti who had recently concluded her tour) and some of his doctors from Germany were in attendance.

"Lastly," the President concluded, "I'd like to introduce the Major's family. Before he and I walked out here, the Major shared with me that he is deeply and eternally grateful for this incredible group of people and especially for his wife, Amelia," the President said. He continued, "Debra Hunt, the Major's mother, holding the current youngest of the family, Gwendolyn. Dr. Amelia Shepherd-Hunt, the Major's wife and a gifted and talented neurosurgeon in her own right. Ella is being held by Mom. Oliver, Bronwyn and, standing next to me, Finley. Shepherd-Hunt family deserve deep recognition for the sacrifices you have made so that the Major could serve. Being part of a military family is a sacrifice. Separation from loved ones and the burden of extra responsibilities make deployments especially challenging. Please accept my deep and abiding personal gratitude in addition to the gratitude of the American people." The crowd applauded energetically before Amelia et al sat back down.

"At this point, you have heard enough from me," the President grinned. "I would now like to introduce Major Owen Hunt, MD, a man you've come to know as a father, doctor, soldier and, yes, hero." Finley returned to his seat and immediately placed Anna on his lap to give Amelia a break. The crowd stood and applauded as Owen, using crutches, approached the podium.

Owen pursed his lips as he looked out at the applauding crowd. He lowered his chin and eyes more than once before leaning to the microphone and uttering, "Thank you. Please be seated." The applause ebbed and people began to sit down.

"As you've heard, I'm a trauma surgeon. My job seldom allows me time to outline a surgery or undergo deep analysis prior to operating. In preparing for today, I shrugged and thought to myself that I didn't need to write anything down. After all, acting in the moment and thinking on my feet – or even from the ground after being knocked down – is what I do. But now as I stand here, I'm wishing I'd jotted down something," Owen said with an endearing smile.

He continued, "I am deeply humbled and honored by all this attention and the volumes of kind words. I deeply appreciate that my teenaged son sees me as a hero, and I'm so proud of him today." Owen paused briefly to catch Finley's eye. "Finley, I hope that I'll still be your hero when we get home tonight and I remind you that you still have to do the dishes after dinner even though you met the President."

Then he added, "In all honesty, when I look in the mirror, I don't see a hero. I see a man who simply tries to do the best he can do, someone who strives to live with integrity and who tries to learn from his errors. I see someone with flaws who has made mistakes and who, occasionally, gets it right. To be considered a hero… that undeserved title puts a lump in my throat."

"Through my various tours, I have come to appreciate life and to embrace hope. I am far less likely to give up on a patient or on myself because I've seen far too many miracles in the field – cases where all hope seemed gone, yet the soldier pulled through. I cannot always control the outcome, but I can choose to remain engaged in saving a life as long as there is a shred of hope. The soldiers and the local residents that I have had the pleasure to help have been my teachers and my companions on the challenging journeys that war brings."

"A great deal of thought and conversation informed my decision about whether or not to serve on this last deployment. I absolutely did not want to leave my wife and children. I agonized over the separation from them. At the same time, I couldn't imagine staying home and turning down the invitation to serve. My wife, Amelia, has been steadfast and honest throughout the decision-making process, deployment, and unforeseen recovery experience," Owen looked directly at Mia and continued, "I really cannot thank you enough, Mia, for standing by me, putting up with me, and remaining beside me. I am continually blessed by your presence in my life."

"There is not enough time to thank everyone who had a hand in my experience. Thank you to my mother who refused to let me get away with skipping class or forgetting to finish homework when I was younger, my medical school teachers who shared their knowledge with me, my many colleagues over the years who have taught me what it looks like to be a doctor, all my patients who have entrusted me with their lives, my friends and family, my fellow soldiers, my doctors, nurses, PTs, OTs, and other medical personnel who encouraged me along the way, my incredible children who remind me what life is all about, and, again, my wife, Amelia. Thank you very much."

The crowd stood and applauded in response to Owen's speech. As rehearsed, the President approached Owen at the podium and shook his hand, then Owen saluted the Commander in Chief before moving over to stand by Amelia. Owen wrapped his arm around her waist, and they kissed briefly. She whispered to him, "You were fantastic."

The applause died down and Lt. Col. Rollins began the ceremony for Ria. "Attention to orders, the United States of America. This is certify that the President of the United States of America has awarded the Purple Heart, one of the most recognized and respected medals granted in the U.S. Armed Forces, the oldest military award, first established by General George Washington in 1782, to First Lieutenant Risa Strauss, United States Army posthumously for wounds received in action in Darfur, Sudan during an attack on the medical clinic where she, along with a medical team, saved the lives of many. Please accept our thanks and eternal gratitude for your service and sacrifice." Risa's parents declined the opportunity to speak but welcomed brief comments from the President. After the comments and as they were returning to their seats, they stopped to thank and hug Owen for trying to help her.

Next, the civilian award was presented to April. Lt. Col. Rollins, representing the Secretary of Defense, through whom the medal was granted, was set to pin the medal on April. However, as they rehearsed in the morning, someone came up with the idea of having Owen pin the medal and Lt. Col. Rollins to read the presentation words. Since there was not one set protocol, the group proceeded with the change.

Rollins announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Major Owen Hunt, M.D., United States Army and Dr. April Kepner, Civilian." Owen and April approached the stage and stood next to the President as Rollins continued, "Attention to orders, the United States of America. This is certifying that the Office of the Secretary of Defense has awarded the Medal of Valor to Dr. April Kepner. The Medal of Valor is presented to civilians who have displayed an act of heroism by voluntarily risking his or her own safety in the face of danger. Dr. Kepner shielded the body of her commanding officer, Major Owen Hunt, M.D., United States Army, during an attack on the medical clinic where she, along with a medical team, saved the lives of many. Dr. Kepner also provided the Major with immediate, life-saving medical intervention, refusing to leave his side until he was hospitalized and transferred to the care of other physicians. Please accept our thanks and eternal gratitude for your service and sacrifice."

Owen pinned the Medal on April's lapel as he winked and then whispered, "Hey, thanks for saving me, Kepner. You're one hell of a non-soldier soldier." Since the President was there, they gave him the job of handing the official certificate to April and shaking her hand. April, a farm girl from the Midwest, was overwhelmed by the recognition and amazed to share the spotlight with so many heroes.


	14. Therapy with Michael

**_Chapter 14: Therapy with Michael_**

_Mid-March_

_Healing takes time. A patient cannot pay to speed it up – healing doesn't accept payment or bribes. Shortcuts or rushing too far ahead too quickly lead to relapse. Denial leads to complications. Commitment to the process and to recovery brings a far different outcome. Over time, the memory of the initial physical pain fades. Fears and weakness are replaced with insight and renewed strength. The intensity of the initial shock begins to fade and the mind gains perspective. Healing cannot be rushed. The opportunity, so easily missed, is to use the time of healing to make room in our minds and to ponder in our hearts so the lessons that only come with time can emerge._

The time had come. The occasion that Michael had outlined at Owen and Amelia's first appointment had arrived. He wanted to meet with the kids, to especially hear their anger, pain, and sadness related to the deployment, re-entry, and recovery. Michael had consulted with the kids' therapists and the team of four shared similar insights and analyses.

For the kids, the discussion could have occurred before or just after Owen's return. Their words at those points would have been fresher and rawer. However, waiting for this moment brought unconscious perspective that widened the scope of the family's experiences. Most importantly, waiting allowed Owen to reach a point where he was able to hear the pain without the words destroying him internally. Before the painful but healing conversations could have full effect, Owen's sense of self needed to be restored and well rooted. The time had come.

Michael had met individually with each child the week prior. After those sessions, he requested a meeting with the three children together. The next step was a session with Amelia alone, then with Owen. At that point, assuming no individual needed further tending, the entire family would meet together in a highly managed session led by Michael. If one session did not address the wide range of major concerns, further sessions could be scheduled. The process, Michael warned, was time-consuming and could be intense. However, he'd used it several times and had consistently been pleased with the outcomes. The process opened the lines of communication and reconnected families.

* * *

**_Finley's Session_**

Michael promised that Finley could say anything he wanted, and his words wouldn't be repeated to anyone else unless Finley chose to repeat them. "Finley, tell me what it was like when your dad was gone. How was that for you?" Oliver asked.

Finley thought for a moment before responding and then shared, "When my dad first told us he was leaving, I didn't really care. I thought it wouldn't affect me that much. He wasn't going to be gone very long – just three months. Everyone else was all sad, but I was just like, 'ok, whatever.'"

"At first, I worried about my mom because she already seemed to have a lot going on. If Dad left, she'd probably become busier. My mom is like a superwoman – she can handle anything and usually can deal with anything and keep a smile on her face. She'll say funny things so hard times aren't so serious."

"But this time was different. I don't know how to say it in words. It was like my dad took a piece of Mom away with him. She was sad and distracted. Even though she tried to hide it, she cried all the time. I could hear her late at night and early in the morning. I never knew what to do about it. It felt weird to say anything to her, so I didn't. When she wasn't crying, sometimes she was like a robot without emotions. I was angry at my dad for leaving and making Mom feel that way. He shouldn't have left if Mom was going to be that sad about it."

"I also got frustrated with Mom while Dad was gone because, a lot of times, she still tried to smile and act like everything was fine. I could tell her smile was fake. I wanted her to be honest. A couple times, she and I talked alone and that helped – she was more honest then because she wasn't trying to protect Oliver or Bronwyn. I was pretty disgusted by how everyone tried to protect me and not tell me details. I'm not a baby. I can handle the truth. The fake smiles and happy updates that didn't tell the whole story got old."

"I wrote that essay about my dad being my hero and I really meant it – my dad is my hero. But the longer he was gone, the more I wished life could just return to the way it used to be. Then, when he did come home, his body was a mess and he was in pain. It sounds mean to say that I am mad about my dad's injuries, but I really am. Life wasn't normal anymore."

* * *

**_Oliver's Session_**

With each child, Michael promised confidentiality and asked the same question, but in an age appropriate form, "Oliver, tell me what it was like when your dad was gone. What happened and how did you feel about it?"

Oliver opened up right away and began, "When my dad left, I was really sad. At the airport, we took a selfie with all of us. It's one of my favorite pictures ever. I didn't want him to go faraway. I was scared that he might get hurt and then he did. When he came back and could barely walk, I worried that he'd be like that forever. Oh, and you know what he did that was super cool? When he came home, he talked to the pilot and the pilot showed me and Finley all around the plane and I got to wear the Captain's hat and sit in his seat in the cockpit. I want to be a Blue Angels pilot, so I really loved that."

Michael smiled, "I'll bet that was fantastic, Oliver. I want to hear all about it if we have time after we're finished with some other questions. Tell me about what life was like when your dad was away."

Thinking for a moment, Oliver resumed, "While he was gone, he would call us, and I really liked that. It was fun to see him and talk to him. It was also weird because it was like he was with us but then we'd hang up and he'd be gone again. It was hard when he was there all of the sudden and then gone again.

"A couple times, I could tell Dad was a little frustrated with me – he gets that way when I don't focus or when I get too busy. Even from far away, he did that. Finley was crabbier and meaner when Dad was gone, and I wished Dad was there sometimes to tell Finley to knock it off. When Dad had been gone awhile, Finley listened to Mom more. He even was nice sometimes."

"When Dad was gone, we didn't really play basketball or soccer outside. I played with the dogs all alone because nobody else wanted to play with them and with me. Dad used to, but he decided to leave us. Since he's been home, he hasn't played with them and me either. Sometimes Dr. Avery would come over and play with us. I really, really liked that and I miss it. It was fun to have a Dad-type person around because our mom doesn't wrestle or get very loud like a grown-up guy does. And then, Dr. Avery and Dr. Karev and my uncle came over to build ramps for when my dad came home, and they also built us a treehouse. Dr. Karev taught me how to use a drill and he let me pound nails too."

"We didn't really go places as much when Dad was gone. When Dad was home before, sometimes he'd take us to the hospital with him or to Starbucks for hot chocolate. Nobody did that when he was gone. I missed the hot chocolate. Bron and me, we lost our special time with Dad 'cause it just stopped when he left. He can't drive now, so he doesn't take us places still."

"I really, really, really love my mom. Sometimes I was really angry at her when Dad was gone, and I didn't like being mad at my mom because I don't usually get mad at her ever. She wasn't as nice when Dad was gone. We played Hot Lava and that was fun, but she would also send me to my room for little stuff and wasn't patient. She wasn't as happy, and I got in trouble more."

* * *

**_Bronwyn's Session_**

After Michael introduced himself and asked his standard question, Bronwyn piped up, "Here's the thing…see, I… umm… well, don't tell anyone else, but I'm Daddy's princess. He tolded me that – that I'm his little princess. He really likes me. I make him laugh and even his eyes smile at me sometimes. Sometimes Daddy can't fix my hair right, so I didn't miss that when he was gone. I'm pretty sure Daddy missed me lots when he was gone, so I was sad for him to be missing me. I was sad for me because I missed him lots too."

"I didn't tell anyone, but I cried in my bed a lot when Daddy was gone because I missed him. Sometimes Mommy wouldn't even read me stories – she'd ask Finley or Oliver to do it. That wasn't the same. Finley helped me find clothes some mornings and he wasn't as fun as Daddy. Finley picked clothes that didn't go good together and would tell me that I was wearing what he picked and to be quiet and just put them on. I didn't get to say what I wanted."

"Deep inside, I got mad at Mommy when Daddy was gone because she was like a zombie. She didn't have much feelings except to be crabby or super quiet. She looked sad a lot. Most of the fun in our house left when Daddy left, except for Hot Lava time. I liked that game because Mommy would smile."

"Now, Daddy can't do much because he was shot by a mean guy three times. At first, Daddy was in a wheelchair and I didn't like that because my daddy knows how to run and jump and wrestle and play. Daddy came home but his legs didn't. At first, he could get angry easy because his body hurt. Sometimes I take a nap with him, so he doesn't have to sleep alone. Pretty soon, Daddy will be able to take me to school again. Right now, he stays home a lot and he doesn't go places with us."

* * *

**_Finley, Oliver and Bronwyn_**

"We have each met and had some good talks. I want to talk to all three of you together, too. Everyone will need to take turns talking, so I might ask you to stop sharing so someone else can share. Therapy is different when there's more than one person with the doctor," Michael explained.

He continued, "I want to ask you about three topics and I'm going to tell you all of them now so you can think about your answers. 1. I'd like to know about your biological mom and dad, 2. Tell me about the new baby that's coming, and 3. What is your biggest wish for your family?"

Bronwyn piped up willingly, "Umm… well… I never knewed my other daddy. I was living in my mama's tummy and he died before we met each other. Since I never knewed him, I never misseded him, but sometimes I was sad to not have a Daddy. Then Uncle Owen turned into our daddy and I really, super, duper liked that."

"What about your biological mom, Bronwyn?" Oliver prodded gently.

Shrugging, Bronwyn shared, "She's dead too. Her car crashed and she died. I was 3. Sometimes, I merember her a little, but not all the time. But we have a Mommy now and I love her."

"How about you, guys?" Michael asked.

"I was pretty little when our dad died," Oliver clarified. He turned to Finley and confirmed, "I was about 2 or almost 3, right?" Finley nodded and Oliver continued. "I'm glad to have pictures of us together. Me and Finley, we look a lot like him. His name was Blake and he was a firefighter. Our mom was a mom by herself after our dad died. She was gentle and liked to hug. I remember her really pretty smile. I was 7 when she died, and I cried a lot because I really missed her. I still miss her sometimes, but our new dad, he tells us stories about her and our new mom, sometimes she shows us pictures so we can remember better."

Finley finished up the responses, "I was 6 or 7 when our dad died and 11 when our mom died. Sometimes it doesn't feel fair that I got to know them for longer than Oliver or Bron. I feel bad sometimes that I have so many happy memories and they don't remember. When our dad died, our mom was kind of like our new mom was when our new dad was at the war. She was sad and quieter. Life wasn't as fun. I spent a lot of time helping Mom with the little kids. She signed me up for soccer and told me she did that so I could be a kid sometimes. I still really love soccer, so I'm glad she thought to do that. Our lives were more basic in Canada, we weren't rich and didn't go to private school. Our house wasn't as fancy. Sometimes I'm sad that we don't live in our house in Canada and that our names changed when Mom died. Uncle Owen told me that we had to change our names because of the international adoption. He was going to try to be our guardian instead of our new dad, but the lawyers told him that wouldn't work."

Oliver asked gently, "What was your last name before? Bronwyn, do you remember?"

"I think I was just Bronwyn before I was 'dopted," Bronwyn shared.

"Nuh uh, Bronwyn. We had a last name before our last name was Hunt," Oliver pointed out to his sister with impatience. Then he turned to Oliver and admitted, "But I don't remember it. It was longer than Hunt. I remember in school thinking that was cool 'cause I didn't have to write as long of a name."

Finley clarified flatly, "Our last name was Tremblay or _is_ Tremblay or whatever. It's Scottish and French, which is funny because our mom was Scottish, and our dad was French Canadian. Even though Tremblay was our dad's last name, it still could have been from my mom's family. Kind of cool."

"And now you're all part of a new family. What do you think about the new baby that's coming?" Michael asked.

"I don't think we have enough room for him, and the car is gonna be too crowded. I mean… him is going to be borned but I just don't know how it's gonna work," Bronwyn explained with flowing hand and arm gestures.

"Not enough room, huh? How do you feel about that, Bronwyn?" Michael inquired.

"Well…" Bronwyn began, "I'm not sure Mama and Daddy were thinking 'cause now there will be too many kids. I feel like this about it," Bronwyn explained as she let out a giant audible sigh.

"I'm excited to have a little brother," Oliver offered with glee. I think it will be great. We can have a boys' team and a girls' team."

"I like how we have a boy as the oldest and a boy as the youngest," Finley observed. "My only feeling is that I'm worried my mom will have to be in the hospital a lot before he's born. When she was pregnant with the twins, she pretty much lived at the hospital."

Michael grinned at the kids as he offered gratefully, "You all have such great thoughts to share. Thank you. One last question, and this one is kind of fun, 'What is your biggest wish for your family?'"

"For our family right now? Or when we're grown up or when we lived in Canada?" Finley sought to clarify.

"Your family right now," Michael explained.

"My biggest wish is that Daddy never, ever, ever go away again ever in his whole, whole life," Bronwyn responded.

"I wish that Mom and Dad wouldn't get so snappy at each other and yell at each other and then act like they aren't fighting," Finley stated with assurance.

"I don't know what I wish," Oliver giggled nervously and smiled. "Maybe that we could do more fun stuff together like go places and stuff."

"Out of curiosity, Finley, you asked about the timing of the wishes," Oliver restated. "Do you have specific hopes or wishes for when you're grown up?"

"Yeah," Finley shrugged, "I do."

"Would you like to share them or keep them private?" Oliver wondered aloud.

"My hope is to marry Naomi, be a Dad with lots of kids, and be a businessman who has a job that uses a lot of math," Finley shared.

Bronwyn studied her eldest brother's face and asked, "Can I be one of your kids?"

"You're my sister, Bronwyn, not one of my kids," Finley explained. "You'll be the auntie to my kids."

"Oh," Bronwyn responded with confusion. "How many kids do you want?"

"We haven't decided," Finley, representing his future wife and speaking far beyond his years, "At least four."

"I'm gonna be too busy flying airplanes in the Navy to have a wife and kids," Oliver disclosed. "I'll be all over the world all the time."

"Well, back to our discussion…" Michael prompted, "I'd like to have a time when we sit down with your parents and all of you. Sometimes in families, we don't want to share our mad or sad feelings because we care about each other and don't want to hurt someone. I'd like to try something different, but it's up to each of you and you can each decide what you want to do. I'd like you to sit down with your parents and share some of what you've told me. That might seem scary, but they have promised they won't be angry or mad. They want to talk about the tough stuff."

* * *

**_Amelia_**

"How were your sessions with the kids?" Amelia asked curiously as she sat in the same spot of the sofa where she sat when she and Owen came together.

"Your children, Amelia, are precious," Michael stated. "They are steady, stable, healthy kids with impressive insights. They seem to have weathered the death of the biological parents very well. You may want to spend some time with Finley chatting about that further – he is doing well, but he still grieves."

Amelia made a mental note to chat with Finley and then inquired, "How uncomfortable will our whole-family session be?"

"Let's chat about that. Certainly, the kids expressed concerns about Owen's absence and return. I want you to be prepared to hear some feelings directed more toward you," Michael alerted her.

She smirked playfully and stated, "Tell me more, Michael."

Michael grinned and explained, "As the parent who was left behind, many feelings are natural. Feeling burdened, feeling like everyone and everything was dependent on you, and feeling as if you drew the short end of the stick are all normal. The parent left behind bears the day to day responsibilities of parenting and running a household."

Continuing, Michael shared, "You might feel as if the family or Owen owe you something for all you did. As if everyone should realize how much you sacrificed and kept life together."

"Sure," Amelia nodded, "to a degree I think I do feel that I stepped up more than anyone else."

"How will it feel for you if the kids share criticisms about your parenting during the deployment?" Michael pushed.

"Umm…but I didn't leave them. I was the one who was there for them. And they're going to criticize that? That hurts, Michael," Amelia disclosed.

"Think of it from their point of view. You were part of their everyday life. They have far more memories of interacting with you during the deployment. Their primary memory of Owen at that time is focused on missing him," Michael explained.

"Do I need to brace myself?" Amelia asked.

"To a degree. While your experience is focused upon Owen and how his actions affected you and the kids, the kids are focused upon what life was like at home while Owen was away. I don't want you to expect that you'll be painted as the hero and Owen as the villain," Michael expressed. "Kids see and perceive more than we think they do. Your kids are no different."

* * *

**_Owen_**

"Tomorrow is the big day when we'll gather as a family," Michael pointed out to Owen at Owen's appointment. "How are you feeling about that?"

"Hmm," Owen pondered, "a little concerned. Are the kids going to be as pissed at me as Amelia is?"

"That may not be the question to ask," Michael stated. "Depending upon what the kids choose to share, you might hear some observations about how Amelia was affected negatively by your absence, you might hear sadness about your absence, and perhaps some frustration about your recovery."

"During the appointment, and especially afterward, I'd encourage you to focus on Amelia. Some of the words the kids have to share may unintentionally hurt her. Your support and encouragement will help her work through everything," Michael offered. "During the session, let me lead and manage the conversation. My sense is that you lead and manage at home. It may be difficult for you to not do that when the kids share their honest and raw feelings. Your challenge will be to simply listen and not try to quiet or fix the situation."


	15. Family Session with Michael

**_Chapter 15: Family Session with Michael_**

On the way to Michael's office, everyone was quiet. Owen closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he anticipated the session. Finley had his headphones in, as always, while Oliver played a handheld game. Bronwyn was coloring in a Princess coloring book and humming as she rode along. As she drove, Amelia was lost in her thoughts.

_What did he mean that I should not expect to be painted as the hero? I'm growing weary of all this hero talk and I certainly do not need to be 'the' hero of the family. At the same time, I'm not the villain. Why do we fall into these stark contrasts anyway? Aren't we all a mixture of success and failure and everything in between? Can't we address the family's experiences without focusing on blame or labelling?_

_Maybe I'm over-thinking all this. I wish I could go to my friend, Owen, that guy who lent me oversized scrubs once when we were caught in a torrential downpour. That friend had a way of helping me gain insight. He didn't insist on his perspective like he sometimes does now that we're married. When he had less of a stake in the situation, his open-ended questions and ponderings seemed to fill me with perspective. Maybe I'm placing too much of my worth as a mom on what I'll hear today from the kids. Oh, Amelia, what have you agreed to do here?_

With his eyes closed, Owen appeared to be asleep. In reality, he was processing his thoughts in his own methodical and thoughtful way.

_I truly wonder what the kids will have to say. What did they tell Michael that might be difficult for Amelia to hear? Going into this process, I assumed I'd have criticism and anger poured upon me. Now it seems as if she's going to catch the brunt of the frustration. It hardly seems fair. She has sacrificed and struggled more than anyone, but I'm worried she's not going to receive credit for that. Damn, there are so many consequences I never anticipated._

The family arrived and made their way into Michael's office. He had borrowed a makeshift sand table from an officemate so Bronwyn and Oliver might be less antsy as the session unfolded. Both kids were immediately drawn to it and began playing. Owen, Amelia and Finley sat on the couch. Finley sat in Owen's customary spot after Owen positioned himself next to Amelia.

"Here we are," Michael smiled. "A few reminders before we begin…" Michael reviewed the ground rules about not interrupting, honoring one another's feelings, and letting Michael manage the conversation. "Let's begin by talking about the deployment. How it felt, what was difficult, what was fun, what changed, what stayed the same. Bronwyn, what's your answer?"

"That's too many questions at once," Bronwyn declared as she looked up from the sand table.

Michael chuckled and replied, "Fair enough. What was fun and what was hard when your daddy was away?"

"We played hot lava _all the time. _and Dr. Avery camed over sometimes and played with us. Oh! And we gotted a new treehouse," Bronwyn celebrated. "What was hard was Daddy wasn't there to read to me or help me pick out clothes and sometimes Finley just told me I had to wear clothes that he picked. Mommy was sad or quiet or crabby all the time, I didn't like that. Daddy really left but our happy mommy kind of left too."

"Let's go around the room with this question," Michael explained. "Oliver?"

"The same good things Bronwyn said, and I liked the FaceTime calls," Oliver offered. "I really missed going places with Dad, like to Starbucks or the hospital. I missed playing with the dogs with my dad. I was sad and lonely when he left. I felt really sad for Mommy because she had so much to do and she cried lots."

Finley began his turn, "I don't know what was good about it. I was mad at Dad for leaving because Mom was so sad about it. Sometimes she was just blank with no energy or emotions. I was frustrated with Mom because I could tell she was acting like she wasn't sad or scared sometimes when I knew she was."

"What would you have changed about that, Finley?" Michael asked.

"Just to be real and honest. To talk about our feelings instead of wondering what I should say – like when I'd hear Mom cry and didn't know if I should tell her I knew she was sad. If I could've changed anything, I guess I would have had Dad stay. Then he wouldn't be injured now, and life would just be normal," Finley disclosed.

"Can I say what I would change?" Oliver asked. Michael nodded and Oliver continued, "I would have Dad stay too. I don't know how to change it, but I wouldn't be so lonely if I could change things."

"I would have Daddy stay home. If he didn't stay home, I would have had us have a substitute Daddy to read and play and tickle and do stuff with us," Bronwyn added.

"Owen and Amelia? What went well and what was difficult? What would you have changed about the situation?" Michael prodded.

Owen spoke first, "I thought we were here to listen."

"Partly. However, it's helpful for the kids to listen to your experiences too," Michael explained.

"I wish there was a way I could have stayed home and gone overseas at the same time," Owen stated. "The experience of helping people and working with great medical personnel was rewarding. The attack, being injured, and being away from my family were the toughest parts. If I could change anything, I would undo the attack and change being injured."

Amelia took a deep breath. "I think I was stretched in some good ways as a parent. I learned and grew. I've been determined to find the silver lining around what consistently felt like a very heavy and dark cloud. Feeling alone and sad were the worst. If I could change anything, Owen wouldn't have left. I would also change Owen having been injured."

"Good. Helpful thoughts. Did you all hear some similarities? Nobody wanted Owen to get hurt, many expressed concern for Amelia's sadness, and I heard a great deal of loneliness from many of your comments. Even though you went through this together and felt similar feelings, there was also an isolation," Michael observed. After a brief pause, Michael continued, "What made you mad?"

Again, Bronwyn began, "I gotted mad at Mommy because she was like a zombie. She didn't have much feelings except to be crabby or super quiet. Most of the fun in our house left when Daddy left."

"Not going fun places anymore like Starbucks or the hospital," Oliver offered. "And I didn't like seeing Mommy sad. I was mad and sad about that. I didn't like how life changed and how lonely I was."

"I guess a lot of things made me mad. When Dad left, it was like he took a part of Mom with him. She didn't joke as much after he left. I missed her laugh. Sometimes having to help with the other kids bothered me but it was ok most of the time," Finley put forth.

"For me, being the one to make final decisions and having to make them alone made me angry. And I would get angry with myself when I was crabby or tired or impatient," Amelia admitted.

Owen concluded, "Hmm…I wasn't very mad most of the time I was gone. I suppose being injured and trying to recover made me pretty mad, though."

Michael summarized, "Some similar themes: Mom wasn't the same when Dad left, injuries and recovery are tough, life wasn't as fun anymore. Hmm…" Michael continued, "Kids, you've been really honest so far. I have a challenge for you. What would you say or ask if you could say or ask your mom or dad anything about the last few months?"

"Umm… I would look at Daddy with my saddest eyes and ask, 'Why did you have to go?'" Bronwyn offered as she displayed her sad eyes. "And to my mommy, I would say, 'Stop being so mean and crabby and please don't have Finley help me get ready because he doesn't do it like you and Daddy do.'"

Oliver was thoughtful as he looked at Michael to answer, "I would ask Dad why he had to get hurt, but I know that he didn't get hurt on purpose. I don't know how I'd ask about that, but I don't like that he was hurt so bad and came back different. Our Dad didn't come back all the way." Oliver shifted his gaze to Amelia and offered, "And to mommy, I would give her giant hugs and ask, 'Mommy, why didn't you share your tears with me? You are always there when I'm sad and I want to be there for you when you're sad because I love you so much." Amelia's eyes glazed with tears as Oliver looked at her with deep compassion.

"I would want to know why you two fight so much since Dad came home. I don't like hearing it and the room feels weird when you fight – like the air changes or something. I would also want to know why you didn't just tell me the truth sometimes. I'm old enough to handle it and I don't like it when I can tell that what you're saying isn't the whole story," Finley disclosed as a true teenager.

"Similarities," Michael began, "a yearning for 'normal' or for how life had been before, wishing for more joy, the challenges of adjusting to change. I also heard a hope for improved communication and a desire to help one another through challenges. Really, all of your care and sentiments toward one another is a rare gift. You all have great love for one another. The challenge before you is communicating it openly and freely. How could that improve?"

"I know! I know!" Bronwyn exclaimed, "It could be a new game at dinner like when we play guest or highs and lows." Michael nodded and smiled at Bronwyn.

"We have a feeling chart at my therapists. Sometimes it helps figure out how I'm feeling," Oliver offered.

"Maybe if someone is just crabby or wants to be alone, we let them be by themselves," Finley suggested as much for himself as for his parents.

"You know what I think?" Amelia interjected. "I think you three have better ideas than I do sometimes. Will you promise to share your ideas with me when you think of them?" The kids all nodded.

Owen squeezed Amelia's hand and cleared his throat, "Come here everyone." Oliver and Bronwyn stood up and stood in front of Owen and Finley scooted over a little closer. Owen wrapped his arms around Amelia and Finley and the family made a hug huddle and squeezed in tight. Owen declared, "I love you all so much. We are lucky to be each other's family." He leaned toward each person one after the other, kissing each of them on the forehead. His voice cracked as Owen voiced his breakthrough for the session, "I am really sorry that I deployed. I apologize for all of the pain and sadness that resulted from my decision. I love you all."


	16. I'm Truly Sorry

**_Chapter 16: I'm Truly Sorry_**

After the appointment, all three kids sat in the third row of the Enclave. Oliver was engrossed with a game on his phone, and Finley was staring out the window. Bronwyn was tracing the outlines of pictures in her coloring book absentmindedly. She had a sense that the session ended well, and she liked seeing Amelia and Owen smile and hold hands on the way to the car. Even so, the purpose and result of the session – or any therapy session she'd ever attended for that matter – weren't clear to her five-year-old brain.

"Finley?" Bronwyn leaned toward her eldest brother sitting next to her. "Are we all fixeded now?"

Chuckling, Finley offered a rare smile and responded, "Therapy doesn't work that way, Bronwyn."

"Then, how _does_ it work?" Bronwyn inquired.

"People go to therapy to talk about their feelings and about things in their life that are hard. Then they understand life better. That kind of stuff…but people aren't like cars. You don't go to therapy to get fixed; you go to talk and think. You go to learn and understand life better," Finley explained.

"So, to get fixeded," Bronwyn nodded.

Finley drew in a breath and smirked, "Yep."

"Then are we fixeded?" she repeated.

After sighing, Finley offered, "We're better. You'll have to ask Mom or Dad if we're finished for now. It's up to them."

Whispering, Bronwyn wondered, "Why was Daddy almost leaking little tears when he tolded us he was sorry?"

Finley had his own understanding, but deferred to his parents, "You need to ask Dad that question."

"Daddy?" Bronwyn bellowed.

Finley put his hand over her mouth and grumbled, "Not now, Bronwyn. In private when we get home."

"Oh, ok," Bronwyn agreed.

"Yes, Bronwyn?" Owen answered.

"Nuffing," Bronwyn shared. "I forgotted."

Owen chuckled and turned to Amelia with relief and joy, "How are you feeling? I feel like a huge weight was lifted off of me. I understood my decision's impact in a whole new way."

"Wonderful," Amelia smirked and glanced quickly at her husband. "You seem more buoyant." The family arrived home and piled out of the car. Owen, puzzled, studied Amelia for a few seconds attempting to discern how she was feeling. She did not seem sad or angry. Her demeanor wasn't flat or emotionless. She responded to his question with the same tone of voice she used when she picked the dogs up at the groomer or when she spoke to a teacher at Back to School night. When she caught his eye, he smiled and proceeded into the house.

Inside, Lynne was playing on the floor with the twins. Gwen carefully stacked blocks and Ella knocked the towers over. The twins found their shared endeavor hilarious. Owen worked his way onto the floor to join in the fun. Once he lay in front of them on his stomach, both twins offered slobbery kisses. Owen rolled onto his back after the second kiss. He held Gwen above him and made motor noises as he moved her around.

* * *

"Ella! Dada, Ella," Ella insisted as she pulled on Owen's shirt sleeve. Owen rotated between the two girls continuing the sound effects. Then, combining exercise with fatherhood, he arranged the girls so one stood by his left knee and the other beside his right. He did sit ups, one to the left then one to the right, blowing a raspberry on a tummy or offer a quick kiss as he reached either twin.

"Impressive abs," Amelia purred as she walked by the scene with a wink. On his way toward his knees, Owen chuckled and let himself fall to the floor. The girls tackled him, attempting to blow raspberries on his stomach but not quite mastering the technique.

Later that night, Owen and Amelia passed each other in the hallway. Owen was just about to read to Bronwyn and Amelia was exiting Oliver's room. "See you downstairs?" Owen suggested gently. Amelia grinned and nodded.

Soon, holding tightly to the railing but not using crutches or a cane, Owen descended the staircase. He hobbled over to the couch and sat down beside his wife, resting his arm around her shoulders. A comfortable silence cradled them as they each let their thoughts wander.

"This is so nice," Owen hummed peacefully as he turned to kiss her.

"Can I ask you something?" Amelia wondered with a steady, intentional voice.

Owen looked at her out of the corner of his eye and softly chuckled, "Of course."

With a gentle, thoughtful tone that conveyed that her question had been stirring deep inside, Amelia inquired, "At therapy today, at the end…were you just moved by the moment? Or is the feeling of regret sustained – did your apology come from deep inside? Are you… are you sorry at your core or were your words simply accompanying an epiphany in the moment?"

"Uh…" Owen leaned back after blowing air upward from his lower lip. The large, open and airy floorplan of the great room, dining room and kitchen suddenly felt like a small, dark, dank cave. Silence hung in the air as Owen sensed the authenticity of his apology was being questioned.

After a minute or two, Amelia clarified, "No judgment. My questions aren't meant to sound critical or as if I doubt your sincerity, truly."

Sputtering, Owen responded, "Wow, Mia… I… uh… I'm not sure how to respond. I haven't analyzed my apology using your paradigm." He wondered if, in her estimation, an apology that had been fully considered over time somehow meant more than one that resulted from a spontaneous epiphany.

Amelia looked toward the lake, unable to see the water as darkness filled the night. She thought to herself, _He doesn't understand the nuance I'm trying to describe. _

Flatly and calmly, she offered, "Let me rephrase. Had you been considering your regret from deep in your soul or were the words an authentic and meaningful commentary as you began to reflect on the revelation in the moment? Where are you in the process?"

"You're asking if I had been considering an apology before therapy or if it came to me while we were there," Owen attempted to restate.

Amelia grimaced, "Basically, but with a little more nuance and complexity."

"My apology, Amelia…" Owen began slowly, "was authentic and from the heart. When I… as I listened… hearing the ways that my decision impacted each of you… As I listened," Owen attempted to continue as he choked up and put his hands over his face, nearly hyperventilating. After a few breaths, he tried again, "I heard pain today. Pain that I caused my family, the people I love most in this world. I listened and also listened to what was _not _said, and I was convicted. I take full responsibility for the decision to deploy, Amelia, and today, I encountered the true consequences. I realized how, in one way, my decision and yearning were self-focused even though my life isn't all about me. I had a choice about whether or not to go. I had a choice and I chose for myself rather than my family."

Utterly breaking down, Owen leaned into his wife's shoulder, clung to her tightly, and cried. Amelia stroked his newly restored wavy hair as she pursed her lips and slowly closed her eyes. Her own feelings ranged widely from relief, compassion, anger, exhaustion, exasperation, and love. Amelia yearned for Owen to see the situation from her point of view, even though she could not begin to understand it from his. To this point, she still struggled with _why _he would experience such an inner pull to deploy. How could he choose to leave his family? To risk the injuries that accompanied him when he returned? What made the risks worth it? At the same time, Amelia was nowhere close to giving up or leaving; perhaps that was why the pain was particularly sharp.

After a full 20 minutes of emotional release, Owen was nearly able to speak with a steady voice. He attempted to enhance his description, "I thought I went for altruistic reasons – to serve my country, to share my medical expertise. I was willing to personally sacrifice, to leave home temporarily and live in a tent, to never know when I'd get a shower, to eat," he chuckled, "horrible food. I told myself I was willing to sacrifice for my country. Today, I understood that I had signed all of you up involuntarily for sacrifice far beyond sleeping on a crappy cot or dealing with the desert heat. And, today, our family responded to my apology by showering me with undeserved grace and love. I am both humbled and ashamed to receive that response."

He paused and looked down at his hands before continuing with a slight hint of tension, "To answer your question, Amelia, I was overcome with guilt and regret in the moment. I hadn't seen it or felt it in the same way before today's session. Now, I'll carry those profound feelings in the core of my being with ongoing and heavy regret… My answer to your question is yes." Unexpectedly, Owen slowly stood up, grabbed his cane, and walked to the temporary master bedroom. After the door closed lightly, Amelia heard the lock turn.'

* * *

Amelia pulled a blanket tightly around her body. There were no tears left to fall, just a blank emptiness deep inside. She felt hollow. The energy needed to walk upstairs to her bedroom was more than she had available. Stretching out on the couch and placing another blanket on top of her, Amelia fell asleep for the night. Her makeup remained on her face and she wore the clothes she'd worn all day. Those irregularities did not even cross her tired and burdened mind.

A little after 4:00 am, Amelia's dreams brought surprising scenes. _With vivid color and detail, she saw herself sitting out on the patio with a fire burning in the fire pit. Birds flew by and sang. An occasional soft breeze kissed her skin. The warm summer air soothed her weary body as she set her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes._

_She could hear her dad approaching from behind and a smile appeared on her face while her eyes remained closed. He leaned down to her and clasped his hands on either side of her head as he used to do. He held her hair with his reassuring grasp, then rubbed her cheek with the outside of his hand. His iconic watch was strapped to his wrist. _

"_I want to hold you all day, baby girl," her dad whispered as he gazed at her, "My sweet, little Amy."_

"_Then hold me, silly," Amelia quipped in response with a wide smile._

_He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. As she anticipated climbing onto his lap, her dad slowly shook his head, "Nah…Amelia, you belong here. I don't."_

_Amelia's smile faded and her brows moved toward one another, "Daddy, stay. Please stay."_

_They grasped hands and he responded, "Amy…Amy…Amy…you've gotta face this stuff. Face it so you can stop letting the pain of the past inform your steps toward the future. Amy-girl, Owen came back. He's here. He came back. He's alive. Amy, grasp his hand in yours and don't let go. Walk with him and the two of you can help each other heal."_

* * *

In an instant, Amelia flinched and gasped as she woke up. Blinking her eyes as she tried to find her bearings, Amelia breathed deeply and attempted to slow down her startled heartbeat.

From the kitchen, Finley cleared his throat as he stood at the refrigerator with a glass of water. "Mom? Are you ok?" he asked. Sibma wandered around sniffing and looking for crumbs on the kitchen floor.

"Uh, yeah," Amelia responded sleepily. "What are you doing down here? It's the middle of the night."

Finley walked over and sat next to his mom. He frowned, "I just couldn't sleep. I thought maybe if I came down here for a while… I dunno. Maybe I'll get tired and could go back to sleep."

Wrapping her arm around her son, Amelia smirked, "What's weighing so heavily on Finley Hunt's mind that it's keeping him awake?"

Staring at the floor, Finley mumbled, "Bronwyn asked me on the way home if we're fixed now."

"Fixed?" Amelia lightly laughed. "I'm not sure I'll ever feel 'fixed.' I've messed my life up in too many ways for too long for it to ever be fixed."

Finley noted then set aside his mom's befuddling and intriguing response and continued blankly, "Then she asked me why Dad had tears ready to leak out when he apologized."

"What'd you say?" Amelia inquired.

"I told her to ask Dad," Finley shrugged. "I didn't know what else to say."

Amelia looked softly toward her son, "Wise response." After patting Finley's upper arm, Amelia asked, "How would you explain it? If you were answering for yourself…not a little kid. Why do you suppose Dad was teary?"

"It's weird. It's like I understand it in my head but can't explain it in words," Finley began. "I think he is sad that he wanted to go and not go all at once. Maybe he's sad because he's confused. But the tears were also happy tears – like tears when something special happens. Maybe he's really relieved he made it home safely."

"Could be…" Amelia responded slowly. "I think your hunches are all solid. I don't know the answer to Bronwyn's question either. Even Dad may not be able to explain it, but I think he was also hurt when he understood how much his decisions affected all of us."

"Hmmm," Finley soaked in the insights.

Amelia continued, "Sometimes coming face to face with the consequences of our choices… realizing that what we've done affected others and not just ourselves… that can be pretty hard to swallow. I've been in that space far too many times. I know it well, and it's not a comfortable or happy place to be."

Finley didn't respond. At some point during her response, he'd drifted off to sleep. Amelia slipped out from beside her son and laid his body down on the cushions. She took the blankets that had kept her warm through the night and placed them on Finley.

* * *

Grabbing Finley's water glass, Amelia slowly and tentatively began to take it to the kitchen. As she turned, she saw Owen leaning against the fireplace. He whispered, "Hey."

"Hi," Amelia managed.

"I… I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. There didn't seem to be a good moment to interrupt. I'm sorry for just lurking here. I probably should have just stepped away," Owen explained.

"There were no secrets revealed. I didn't say anything I wouldn't want you to hear," Amelia stated factually with a sideways grin as she set Finley's glass in the sink.

"Mmm," Owen acknowledged plainly.

"How long have you been standing there?" Amelia inquired.

"Since you woke up startled," Owen disclosed.

"I was dreaming," Amelia admitted as she leaned against the counter and looked down at the floor. She nudged her head up slightly, stopping at the site of Owen's chest before reaching his face. "Dreaming about my dad."

"Yeah? Are you ok?" Owen asked softly.

Amelia looked up the rest of the way, locking eyes with her husband, "I am." She chuckled softly and disclosed, "Umm… he, my dad, he told me to grab onto your hand and not let go. He encouraged me to walk with you so we can help each other heal."

Owen looked into her eyes with gentle compassion and grimaced. "Your dad… that's pretty insightful advice." Holding out his hand, Owen looked at Amelia and asked, "Maybe we should listen to his wisdom."

"Yeah," Amelia responded, slightly choked up, as she grasped Owen's hand tightly. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it before leaning down to kiss her forehead, "I truly, truly love you, Mia."

"I love you, too, Owen," Amelia shared as they walked back to the bedroom hand in hand.


	17. Back to Work

**_Chapter 17: Back to Work_**

_Mid-April_

Much to his surprise, Owen had convinced Callie to give him the green light to begin working part time. Three months to the day of his shooting, he returned to the hospital. Owen was full of joy – energy and enthusiasm poured from his presence.

Callie had been clear that Owen could try part-time work for a week. Then, together, the two would reassess the arrangement. Her rules were clear and firm, and a copies were provided to Webber as Acting Chief of Surgery, Kepner as hall monitor, Amelia as wifely oversight, and Owen as patient. Just to be crystal clear, Callie left an additional copy at the ER desk and another copy in Owen's inbox:

**_No running. Period. _**No running from the ambulance bay to a treatment room. No running from the ER to the elevator to the OR. No running from anywhere in the hospital to anywhere else.

**_No leading the transfer from gurney to bed._** Count to 3 all you want, but you're not lifting patients nor leading their transfer from paramedic gurneys to the ER tables.

**_Shifts cannot exceed eight hours and must include a 45 minute, off the ER floor, break._** Half of the time on the floor should be spent sitting (e.g., on a rolling stool as you're treating a patient, at the ER desk, etc.).

**_Like it or not, you must use a cane or crutches to walk. _**You're not going to be running anyway, so what's the issue?

At 6:45 am, Owen arrived at the hospital for his first eight-hour shift. He was due to report at 7:30. Changing into scrubs, putting on his lab coat for the first time in months and attaching his name badge gave him time to mentally shift from patient to doctor. He and his cane made their way down to the ER, which was quiet and calm. Three patients were present: someone needing sutures, a baby with a possible ear infection, and a runner who had twisted his ankle and fallen.

"April," Owen announced with an upbeat tone, "good to see you."

"Chief!" April ran to hug Owen, nearly knocking him down. She backed up, smoothed out the collar on his lab coat and quickly apologized, "Sorry. I'm just so happy to see you. To see you walking and healthy and here and back and…well, everything. It's so great."

"What do you have for me, Kepner?" Owen asked flatly knowing that he'd spend hours in chit chat if he didn't keep her focused. Some habits die hard.

Giggling, April smiled and handed him an iPad with a partial work up saved, "Oh, right. I've got Edwards on sutures. Why don't you take the little one in Curtain 3? Mom can't soothe her; my guess is an ear infection."

Owen glanced down at the tablet and shrugged. _Easy first case_, he thought to himself. He walked over to the curtain, hearing the increasing volume of the screaming toddler's cries. "Good morning, I'm Dr. Hunt. Sounds like someone isn't feeling well. Would that be you Tina?" Owen began as he sat on a doctor's stool and pulled out his trusty pen light to distract the sweet but sad little girl. Her cries turned to sniffles and pouting as she explored the light.

"Can I take you home? Please? That's the calmest she's been since yesterday afternoon," the over-wrought, tired mother with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail begged.

Owen chuckled as he played with the little girl, trying to make friends as he examined her glands and listened to her heart, "I'm not sure how that would go over with my wife." He smiled and asked, "Hard night, huh?"

With tears of desperation and exhaustion gathering in her eyes, the Mother explained, "I've tried rocking her, walking with her, driving around, letting her cry it out, everything I can think of."

"I have kids at home. I get it," Owen smiled with empathy. "In fact," he explained as he gently brushed Tina's nose and chin, "I have twins about your age."

"Twins? Oh my," Tina's mother, Sonja Gleeson, moaned, unable to fathom how anyone could survive that plight. Tina reached out for Owen's stethoscope. When she couldn't reach it, she settled on grabbing his ear and pulling.

"Mrs. Gleeson, has Tina had a lingering cold?" Owen asked as he tried to get the little girl to imitate him and stick out her tongue so he could check her throat.

"It seems like she's had it all winter," Sonja commented.

"Mmm," Owen acknowledged. "Ok, Tina, this is the big moment. I'm going to look inside your ears. Can you shine the light at your mommy? Where's Mommy's purse? Shine the light there," Owen instructed hoping to distract the little girl from the ear check. The second he put the otoscope inside the first ear, Tina bellowed in pain and looked at Owen as if he were a traitor.

"Mom, would you prefer to hold her while I check the other ear? Or I can call in a nurse to help," Owen detailed. The mom held her daughter and Owen encouraged her to snuggle the toddler into her shoulder and gently hold her head. Quickly, Owen snuck a peak at the second ear. He snapped the disposable tip off the otoscope and sat back in his chair with a grimace. "Mrs. Gleeson, I'd like to order an x-ray of Tina's chest. I'm hearing crackling in her lungs which could indicate pneumonia. In the meantime, I'd like to relocate you to a side room that has a door and a lower bed. That will give you a chance to rest while Tina's at x-ray. How does that sound?"

"Ok," Sonja agreed. "Will the x-ray hurt? I know they don't normally, but she's so wiggly."

"The technician will have a brace and will strap her into it. It looks worse than it is, and the x-ray only takes seconds. She might not like the brace, but she won't be in pain," Owen explained. "She can keep the light," Owen concluded with a smirk. "Someone will be right in to help you change rooms and to get everything rolling."

Owen slid the stool beyond the curtain and saw a nurse. "Hannah, can I get your help over here?"

"Dr. Hunt! How wonderful to see you? Of course, I can help," Hannah replied.

"Let's get an x-ray of Tina's lungs and relocate them into Room 24 down the hall so Mom can rest," Owen shook his head, "and I completely neglected to finish the workup blanks. Can you get a temp and ask about allergies? Let me know when the film's back."

* * *

Owen and his cane hobbled over to the ER desk. There were no patients awaiting a doctor. "Kepner, what can I do?" Owen inquired.

"Let me explain what I have planned," April began. April being April, she had thoughtfully divided the Chief of Trauma Surgery tasks on a checklist. She would run the incoming ambulance patients and transports; Owen could work with the nurses on any walk ins. He'd keep the board updated and manage the treatment room usage and assignments, so that he could simultaneously work and be seated. She was more than happy to share traumas with Owen, but they'd have to play those situations by ear as they arose.

"You haven't changed, Kepner. Nice work," Owen nodded. After chatting with other ER staff that had just as little to do, a call came in explaining that MVA victims were on their way: a dad and his preschool aged son. The son appeared to be shaken up but stable. April asked Hunt to take that case while she tended the father.

As Owen and a nurse tried to calm the little boy down, April was desperately trying to pack the wounds the father sustained in the crash. She asked someone to go fetch Owen. He came in quickly and approached the table after being gowned and re-gloved.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop enough to identify the issues," April shared.

"Deep breath. Re-orient your approach. ABCs in check, right?" Owen steadied her.

"Yes," April confirmed as her hands moved in a frenzy along the patient's torso and legs.

"Good. Heart sounds fast but steady. BP is high but manageable. Move to the torso. What do you see?" Owen coached as he reached in and clamped a bleeder near the man's liver.

"Multiple bleeds," April observed.

"That's enough to get him up to the OR. Go scrub, I'll stay with him here until he is transported," Owen instructed. Working quickly, Owen clamped a few other areas and replaced saturated towels. He explained to Edwards what she would need to do as she transported him to the OR and ordered Edwards to scrub in and assist.

Within seconds, the room was quiet, and Owen was left standing alone. He took a deep breath, pulled off his gown and gloves and returned to the son. "We have an ID on Dad – let's try to get a hold of Mom asap. Can you stay with the son until she arrives?" The nurse agreed as Owen hobbled over to the desk to assess any needs that had arisen since the MVA arrived.

Before long, his shift was over. He had resolved Tina's pneumonia and ear infection, then sent her home with scrips for antibiotics and numbing drops. April was in surgery with the MVA and the mom had arrived and was holding her son as she waited for news of her husband's surgery. Owen provided her with an update and headed home, feeling strange about leaving mid-day.

* * *

When he pulled into the garage, the dogs came bounding toward him with glee. The Enclave was in its spot, indicating that Amelia and the kids were home from school pick-ups. Owen patted the dogs and called for them to follow him inside. Knowing better than to compete with their enthusiasm, Owen opened the door and let the dogs burst through it first.

Owen walked to the kitchen counter, poured himself a tall glass of water and sorted through the mail. Bronwyn was sitting at the table alone, eating a snack. "Hey, Red, how was school?"

"School was good. We played with the color purple today. Purple snacks, purple paints, writing and spelling purple. It was a purply day," Bronwyn explained as she took another bite of her snack. With her mouth partially full, she asked, "Where were you today?"

"I went to the hospital to work in the ER," Owen explained as he sat across from his daughter and drank his water. He glanced down to see an array of peculiar foods on her plate: tomato slices with Nutella, some sort of juice in a cup, watermelon with ketchup, and a completely plain piece of white bread. He wondered about the white bread. It was not something he or Amelia ever purchased or even allowed the kids to eat.

"Did you…uh … help Mommy and make your own snack today?" Owen asked with curiosity. Behind him, Amelia approached with Gwen in her arms.

"Nope. Mommy hasn't made snack yet, but she said I could try her snack. She was eating it before she came to getted us," Bronwyn explained as she shoved the remaining slice of tomato with Nutella in her mouth. "This is super, amazing yumminess," Bronwyn smiled.

Owen pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, "Oh…"

"Hey, how was the ER?" Amelia offered as she handed Gwen off to Owen and kissed Owen on the cheek.

"Good. Steady but not swamped. Bad MVA – Kepner's still in surgery. A little kiddo with pneumonia and a double ear infection," Owen shrugged.

Owen teased, "Looks like you've… uh… been jotting down recipes from Food Network over here."

Chuckling, Amelia reached for the juice and took a drink before sharing it with Gwen. "Pear juice – left over from the can. Mmmm."

"Seriously?" Owen asked with a puzzled expression.

"Ever tried it?" Amelia grinned as she pulled her chin toward her shoulder. "Here…"

"No, thanks. Really. I'm good, Mia," Owen laughed. "Since when do you drink pear juice from the can?"

Amelia raised her shoulders and opened her eyes wide, "Just sounded good. The girls like it too." She stabbed a piece of watermelon with a fork and dipped it in ketchup, "You've gotta try this – I know it seems weird, but it is divine." By the end of her sentence, Amy had taken two more bites of the watermelon/ketchup combo.

"Where's the hidden camera?" Owen guffawed as he looked around in jest.

Shoving his shoulder playfully, Amelia grinned. "I'm not telling unless you try the watermelon." She held out a fork with a ketchuped chunk of watermelon and brought it toward his mouth.

Bronwyn, intrigued by the interaction, was laughing and reminded Owen, "You know the rule, Dada. You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it a few times. Have you ever tried that?"

"It's not a normal thing to try. This doesn't count," Owen laughed as he kept leaning his head further back or to the side to avoid Amelia's fork.

"Mmm Hmm," Bronwyn insisted. "You tolded me once that _everything _counts on that rule."

Owen looked at Bronwyn and laughed with his mouth opened wide. Amelia saw her opportunity and slipped the fork inside his mouth. Instinctively, Owen took in the bite and closed his mouth.

Amelia teased, "You know the rule, Daddy… you can't spit it out or it doesn't count as trying it."

"Yeah, Dada," Bronwyn nodded as she freely ate a slice of melon with ketchup.

Owen's face puckered and his brows drew inward as he chewed and modeled a look of disgust. He swallowed the tidbit and took a large drink of water. Both Gwen and Bronwyn howled with laughter as they watched Owen taste the bite.

Gwen tapped her gathered fingertips together and called out, "Mow. Mow. Dada mow."

Leaning in front of Gwen's face, Owen tickled her and shared, "You are a sneaky girl. Daddy doesn't want more. Gwen want more?" She nodded affirmatively and opened her mouth like a baby bird. Amelia slipped a bite of the melon in her mouth.

"No fair! Hers didn't have ketchup on it," Owen whined. Amelia rolled her eyes and laughed.

Bronwyn declared with a serious warning, "Daddy, the faces and the whining have to stop or Mama's gonna send you to time out."

"Can I please? Can I please go to time out?" Owen begged, looking for a way to get away from the feast before Amelia began force feeding him white bread.

"Hmm," Amelia hummed as she offered a sideways grin, "What do you think, Bron. He's begging for time out. What should I do?"

"I think," Bronwyn announced with gusto as she folded her arms, "he needs a nap."

"Owen, you heard the lady, skedaddle and go take a nap," Amelia teased, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Without saying a word, Owen stood up, handed Gwen back to Amelia, and kissed his wife. Then he walked over to Bronwyn and gave her a kiss and hug. He headed up the stairs and the girls heard the door to the Master Bedroom close.

Reaching out and patting Amelia's hand, Bronwyn affirmed in a matter of fact tone, "Good job, Mommy. You gotta be firm with him or he just won't learn." Bronwyn pursed her lips, drew in a large breath and proceeded to nibble on the rest of the ketchuped watermelon.


	18. Adventures in Babysitting

**_Chapter 18: Adventures in Babysitting_**

_Mid-April_

"Let's get neuro down here _now,_" Owen called out as he managed the incoming trauma. "Torres, what do you see?"

"I've got a fibula compound fracture. It's nasty but salvageable," Callie responded.

Alex rushed in, "You paged me?"

"Yeah, 16-year-old kid, skateboard accident. No helmet. Neuro's on the way," Owen reported as he glanced up. Returning his focus to the patient, he grumbled, "Get in there, Wilson – I need to see the area, there's too much blood." Attempting to pack the wound, Owen grabbed towels one after another.

"You need me?" Amelia asked as she stepped inside. Alex shared the basics as Amelia began checking pupils and reflexes. "Pupils are reactive. He needs a head CT before we do anything else. Bleeding under enough control for that, Hunt?"

"What?" Owen wondered aloud. He'd been focusing on his area of the patient so deeply that he hadn't heard Amelia's assessment.

"The bleeding, Owen. Is it under enough control for a head CT?" Amelia retorted.

Owen shook his head in response to Amelia's tone but then confirmed, "Yeah. Let's get the CT, then I'll meet you in the OR. Karev – take over here."

"You on it, Karev? Torres?" Amelia ordered as Karev, Torres and two nurses wheeled the patient toward the elevator. Amelia and Owen were left alone in the room.

As Owen ripped off his bloodied trauma gown, he grinned and offered, "Thanks for coming down so quickly."

"You're not going into that surgery, right?" Amelia asked with a leading tone.

"Yeah, I am," Owen insisted lightly. Confused, he added, "Why?"

"It's going to be extensive. You'll be on your feet too long. Karev can take it from here," Amelia explained.

Huffing with a hint of frustration, Owen smiled incredulously and stated, "Is that your job now, Mia? To keep track of how long your colleagues stand during surgeries? I'll be fine." He patted her shoulder and grinned.

As she left the room, she sighed and mumbled, "Don't come bitching to me tonight when your femur is furious and in pain."

Owen called out sweetly, "Don't worry. I won't." He rolled his eyes, both touched and tired of Amelia's tending.

* * *

A while later, Amelia entered the scrub area where Callie and Alex were already prepping.

Alex looked up and inquired, "How's the head CT?"

"Multiple bleeds. Some can wait but there are three that worry me. I'm trying to figure out which to attack first," Amelia explained as she began to scrub. "You're handling the abdominal injuries?"

"Umm… I was scrubbing in to assist. The kid is Hunt's patient," Alex shrugged.

Callie interjected, "Hunt can't stand that long, Karev. Can you take the lead?"

Stepping in with his scrub cap on, Owen began washing his hands, "How'd the CT come out?"

Catching eyes with Amelia, Callie explained, "It's going to be pretty extensive. You might want to sit this one out, Chief."

Rolling his eyes, Owen snapped, "I know what I can handle. Thanks, Torres."

Amelia entered the OR without a word, attempting to stay out of the debate. She could tell Owen was not going to listen to her anyway. Slicing into the teen's skull, Amelia immediately began working on the bleeds.

Torres and Karev entered the OR with Owen just behind them. After the nurse gowned and gloved them, Owen took the second position and told Alex, "It's a Peds case, Karev. Why don't you take the lead?" Alex shrugged and nodded as the two female surgeons glanced at one another. Owen might not have verbally admitted they were right, but at least he had been listening.

The four surgeons went about their extensive work quietly until Owen broke the silence. "I missed the results of the CT, Shepherd. What's before you?"

"He's got three significant bleeds. I'm slowing them all before repairing any. I need another set of hands in here, but Edwards and Derek haven't answered their pages," Amelia explained tersely.

"Can I help?" Owen offered.

"You're needed where you are. Thanks though," Amelia quipped a little too quickly. Owen stared at Amelia briefly before shifting his focus back to the surgical field.

"Hunt, let's attack that quadrant before moving on. Can you suction?" Karev asked somewhat uncomfortably.

"Sure," Owen complied. "Torres, how's it going for you?"

"His break is more extensive than I first thought. He's going to need a series of surgeries," Callie sighed.

"You paged?" Derek asked as he entered the OR.

"I need your hands in here pronto. I'm dealing with multiple bleeds," Amelia snapped.

Derek nodded, "I'll scrub in."

Owen glanced up at the monitors and mumbled, "Something's not right."

"Huh?" Alex asked, unable to understand Owen's words.

"Something's off," Owen said a bit louder. "What's going on?" He nodded toward the monitors.

"Maybe he's lost a lead," Callie explained.

Owen double checked all the leads on the boy's chest, "They're all in place. Are they all attached to the machine?" The nurse checked and confirmed that they were. "Amelia, take a look at his EEG."

"I'm a little busy at the moment, Dr. Hunt," Amelia responded respectfully but slowly.

"Derek!" Owen called when Derek entered the OR, "Will you review the read out before you begin? Something's not right."

"He's losing too much blood," Derek observed. "Torres, how's your injury? How controlled?"

"The bone's a mess but the bleeding is managed," Callie answered.

The monitors began sounding before Karev or Hunt could respond to Derek's question. "He's coding," Owen called out.

"Let me pack this first!" Amelia called out.

"Hunt, let Karev run it or I swear I'll drag you out of here by your right leg," Callie warned insistently. Owen put his hands up in front of his chest but said nothing.

"Clear!" Karev hollered. He shocked the boy three times before Amelia suggested, "Wait. Let's check pupils." She leaned down and exclaimed, "Dammit. Both blown. He's braindead. Thanks, everyone for your work. Is family here yet? What's his donor status?"

"I'll go check," Owen offered sadly as he headed toward the scrub area. Owen found the parents and took them aside to a private room to let them know their son had died. He explained the efforts that had been attempted to address their son's extensive injuries. Gently and with practiced finesse, Owen brought up the topic of organ donation. The family readily agreed. Owen looked compassionately at the parents and offered his deep condolences.

Owen returned to the OR to see Karev, Torres, and now Bailey standing by. The Shepherds no longer needed, had stepped out. "Let's proceed. Parents gave full consent. I'll call UNOS. Bailey, this is your show now."

"Hey…" Amelia began as she met Owen in the hallway. "Let's connect. I'll wait for you."

With a grimace, Owen responded, "I'm going to be awhile. Parents gave full consent. I'm calling UNOS right now."

"How can I help? Let me make some calls or start paperwork or whatever's on your list," Amelia insisted.

Owen blew a puff of air upward from his bottom lip, then nodded, "Thanks. Follow me."

The two worked together in complete synchronicity as the organ donation process unfolded. At one point, Owen hung up the phone and sighed heavily. He put his face in his hands and rubbed, eventually running his fingers through his hair. Amelia, on another line, reached out and put her hand on his knee.

When she completed her call, she asked gently, "What's up?"

"I don't know. It all just hit me. The kid's liver is headed to Boise for preemie triplets. Just kind of close to home, I guess. Are you holding up?" Owen wondered aloud.

Amelia smirked, "Yeah, I'm great. Why don't you take a break? When did you eat last?"

"Shouldn't I be asking my pregnant wife that question?" Owen chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.

"Well, if it'd make you feel any better, I can restate it. How about you take a break and go get your pregnant wife something to eat?" Amelia expressed with a sly grin.

Owen smiled as he beheld her presence. He stood up, kissed the top of her head, and said softly, "I'll be right back."

* * *

Down in the cafeteria, an attractive brunette in her early 30s approached Owen. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. Do you work here?"

Owen, hungry and starting to get crabby, felt like being snarky and responding, _"What gave it away? The lab coat? Scrubs? ID badge?" _Instead, he grinned and confirmed, "Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?"

The woman glanced at his hand and smiled. He was not wearing a ring because he'd taken it off before surgery. Her eyes moved to his lab coat, "Oh my, Chief of Surgery? I'm sure you have better things to do than answer my silly questions. Never mind."

"I've got a minute. How can I help?" Owen offered as he leaned against the wall by the soda machine.

The woman went on to describe her plight – one particular nurse caring to her sister was proving to be a challenge. As she spoke, she lightly stroked his arm or glanced again at his ringless finger. Owen wasn't sure if the woman was flirting with him or if he was reading too much into her actions. "I'm really not trying to complain," the woman assured him. "I'm not looking to get her in trouble – I'm just trying to figure out how I can help the nurse see how she's not helping my sister's attitude."

Owen grinned when she finished speaking, "I'd be happy to pass along your concerns."

Placing her hand softly on his shoulder, the woman looked deep into his eyes, "Oh, could you? Thank you so much, Dr…" She looked down at his jacket and grasped the left collar gently, "Dr. Hunt. Let me give you my cell number – that way you'll have it in case you need to reach me for anything."

Smirking uncomfortably, Owen nodded and took the card. "If you'll excuse me…I have a colleague waiting for me. I'll call up to your sister's floor in about an hour and see what I can do for her" The woman thanked him again and was on her way.

"Hey, who's that, Chief? An old flame? She had her hands all _over _you," Alex laughed and whistled. "Wow."

"You need something, Karev?" Owen looked at Alex with a hint of impatience.

"Nope. Just admiring the scenery," Alex grinned.

When Owen returned upstairs and reached Amelia, he set food before her. "They were out of Nutella with tomatoes, so I had to grab some stray pickles with barbeque sauce," he teased. "Here's a water, salad, and a roast beef sandwich."

"Actually, pickles with barbeque sauce sounds intriguing," Amelia commented with anticipation.

Owen opened his own sandwich and held a pickle in front of his wife, explaining with charm, "This is the best I can do."

Amelia leaned in and bit the pickle. After Owen dropped the rest of it in her mouth, she kissed his fingers and offered a sultry laugh. The couple ate and Amelia provided an update on the organ donation details.

"I think I'm going to go lie down for a catnap," Amelia declared before asking, "Care to join me? Full disclosure: I really mean a nap, though."

Owen grinned and accepted the invitation. "Actually, that sounds nice."

They walked to the on-call room hand in hand. After closing the door, Amelia snuggled onto a bed and suggested, "Come snuggle in close with me on this tiny bed."

* * *

Owen walked over and positioned himself so that his shoulders and head were against the wall. Then he gently moved Amelia, nudged her sideways, and brought her onto his chest. She nuzzled her face into Owen's chest with a happy sigh as his muscular arm drew her close.

Amelia shared some thoughts about Gwen's latest PT appointment and celebrated the progress they were beginning to see. That led to a shared conversation about Ella and her new tantrum stage. "We need to manage her insistent ways now before she turns into teenage me," Amelia warned.

Their conversation drifted all over the place as they discussed various topics related to home and the hospital. Then Owen said, "I have something weird to share with you."

"Cool," Amelia responded without moving. "I like weird."

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think a patient's mother might have flirted with me when I was working in the ER the other day. Then today in the cafeteria, this attractive…" he stopped himself before offering too much description, "woman asked me if I worked here. It was kind of obvious that I do, with a lab coat and scrubs… Anyway, she touched my name on my coat and kept brushing my arm and my shoulder as we talked about a problem her sister was having with one of the nurses. I swear she kept glancing at my ring finger. Then she gave me her number. I'm not so sure she gave it to me so I could keep her posted on her sister and the nurse."

Amelia cracked up laughing. "You hottie… you scored some digits. I'm impressed."

Blushing, Owen responded, "No… I wasn't boasting. It was… awkward. I didn't know what to say."

"Baby, you've got more game than I thought," Amelia teased as she tickled his side lightly.

"Stop," Owen chuckled. "Seriously. What should I have said?"

"Umm… and here's _my_ card, just make sure to call when my wife's not around?" she laughed.

"I can't believe I told you," Owen commented flatly.

"Or, tell you what, my wife is about to have our sixth child. I'm going to have quite the dry spell after she gives birth. Can I give you a call in… oh, say… 10-12 weeks when I'm feeling lonely?" Amelia chortled.

Owen grinned and shook his head.

"How about…" Amelia shot out another suggestion, "You are so _not_ pregnant, and I find that amazingly attractive. What do you say we meet up at my lake house and…"

"Tickling will now commence," Owen announced as he playfully ravaged Amelia. The two laughed and squirmed around with joy until they were both lying down on the narrow bed. Owen caressed her hair and looked in her eyes. Their lips met and they kissed before ending up in an embrace that they held as they napped.


	19. Ladies Man

**_Chapter 19: Ladies Man_**

Amelia was speaking with a patient's family in the main lobby as Owen stepped off the elevator and spotted her. They'd been called in the previous night when the ER was slammed with patients. After completing a six-hour surgery, Amelia was updating the family. "I anticipate that he'll make a full recovery," Amelia grinned. "He should be back in his room in about an hour. You're welcome to wait up there if you'd prefer."

"Oh, thank you, Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. Thank you so much," the wife of the patient exclaimed as she hugged Amelia. As Amelia was held in the embrace, she spotted Owen and motioned him over.

"This is Dr. Hunt. He initially treated your husband in the ER. His early interventions saved your husband's life," Amelia shared as she introduced Owen. The wife hugged him and thanked him, then returned to hug Amelia again.

The patient's sister-in-law glanced at Owen with a grin. She stood up and placed her hand on Owen's upper arm. Looking at him in the eye, the sister-in-law's sultry voice stated, "What would we have done without your help, doctor?"

Owen attempted to dismiss her praise, "I was just doing my job." He tried to catch Amelia's eye, but she was answering a question for another family member.

The sister-in-law glanced down at his ringless hand and offered a sly smile. "How long have you worked here?" she asked, attempting to make small talk.

"Let's see… about 10 years, I guess," Owen smirked. "You… uh… you live here in Seattle?"

"Yes, over in the Queen Anne neighborhood… _all by myself_," she emphasized.

Nodding, Owen responded, "Nice area. Very nice."

"I like it, and it's not far from here at all," she pointed out. Glancing down at his ringless finger again, she flirted as she inquired, "And you? Where do you live?"

"On Lake Washington," Owen grinned as his pager sounded. "Excuse me, I need to respond to this." He reached his hand out and shook the sister-in-law's hand. "Nice to have met you," he smirked awkwardly. Owen turned to Amelia and held up his pager, "Dr. Shepherd-Hunt?"

Amelia excused herself and followed Owen toward the ER, wondering aloud, "What's coming in?"

"Nothing," Owen smirked. "I just wanted to escape the flirty sister-in-law. The page was just a reminder about an upcoming meeting."

Amelia burst in laughter, "What the hell? You little flirt."

"I swear, I did nothing. She said she didn't know what they would have done without me, and then she started pawing me," Owen chuckled.

Amelia reached her hand in to her pocket and pulled out his ring. "Put this on, playboy." Earlier, he had asked Amelia to keep track of his ring as he headed into surgery.

With authentic relief, he put the ring on and sighed, "Thank you."

Laughing, Amelia shoved his shoulder and then wrapped her arm around his waist. "You're adorable. What is it lately that's bringing in the ladies? New cologne?"

"I don't know," Owen chortled with surprise and an uncomfortable smile. "I don't like it."

"C'mon," Amelia teased.

Owen raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, "Really." He leaned over and kissed Amelia's forehead as he placed his hand on her bump. "I'm taken."

"You mean to tell me that when some hottie shows interest in you, you're not even a little flattered?" Amelia pushed.

"I already have a hottie that shows interest in me on a regular basis," Owen grinned as he put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to kiss her.

* * *

Later in the day, as the family sat on the soccer field and watched Finley, Owen and Oliver took turns chasing Ella and prompting Gwen to walk as she held their hands.

Oliver reprimanded Ella when she threw a rock in the direction of the crowd, "Ella, throw rocks the other way, not toward people. You'll hurt someone." Ella narrowed her eyes and threw a rock at her brother. Oliver sighed and bent down in front of her like he'd seen his parents and Lynne model. "Ella…no. Don't throw rocks at people. That's not nice." She baby pushed him, not hurting him at all, but clearly expressing her authority. Oliver attempted to pick her up so he could carry her over to Amelia. The second he wrapped his arms around her, she turned into cooked spaghetti and wilted onto the ground. The fit and screaming began.

Recognizing their daughter's sound, Amelia and Owen both turned to see the situation. "I got it," Amelia stated.

Owen approached Amelia and handed Gwen to her, "No, I'll deal with it. You stay and kick back." Gwen, for her part, went along with the unexpected transition. She sat on Amelia's lap and began a game of peek-a-boo.

"What's up, Ollie?" Owen inquired as he ignored Ella's fit but stood near her.

"Dad, she threw rocks. I was nice how I said no. Then she threw a rock at me and pushed me before flipping out," Oliver explained. "She drives me nuts."

Owen smiled, "I know. I've got her from here, Oliver. Thanks for your help."

Oliver walked over and sat by Amelia so he could watch the game and vent to his mom about his experience. Meanwhile, Owen glanced down at Ella flatly. As he baby signed the motions, he uttered blankly, "Are you done?"

"Nooooo!" Ella screamed.

Owen watched the game from his current location and continued to ignore her snit. Within a few minutes of not receiving attention, Ella sat up and sniffled. Owen let her sit for a minute and then looked down seriously, "Done?" Ella nodded. She stood up and pulled on Owen's t-shirt, "Up."

"No, you walk," Owen insisted. She began to ramp up to a renewed fit and Owen flatly responded, "Ella Ray, we're not doing this. Hold my hand please."

Ella grudgingly held his hand as they walked over to Amelia and sat down near her on a blanket. "Sit down and let's watch Finley," Owen stated without affect.

"Nice work, handsome," Amelia praised as she patted his shoulder.

Owen glanced over his shoulder and smiled at his wife before returning his attention to the field. Bronwyn came bouncing back from the swings and wrapped her arms around Owen from behind.

"Daddy!" Bronwyn cooed.

Ella stood up and greeted, "Bonwyn!"

"I'm gonna sit with Daddy, Ella. I don't want to play right now." Bronwyn settled herself on Owen's left leg and put her arm on his back. Ella lay down and babbled. She was bored and wouldn't last much longer. She grabbed her shoes and rolled around on the blanket.

"Oh, hey, Mom," Oliver celebrated. "My new friend, Thomas, is over there. Can I say hi?"

Amelia glanced and made note of where Oliver was headed. She leaned to Owen and asked, "Doesn't that mom work at the hospital?"

"No idea," Owen answered while focusing on the game.

"Owen, I think she's new. We should go say hello," Amelia urged.

"Yeah, ok. Go ahead," her distracted husband muttered.

As Amelia began to stand up, Oliver was leading Dena and Thomas toward his family. Amelia walked toward them and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Amelia, Oliver's mom. You look familiar…do you work at Grey-Sloan?"

Dena smiled widely, "I do. I just started there." Extending her hand, she continued, "I'm Dena. This is Thomas and my oldest, Bryce, is number 17."

"My son is out there too," Amelia indicated as she pointed to Finley. "I've already heard about Thomas at home. You just moved to Seattle, right?"

"About three weeks ago," Dena clarified. "The boys seem to be doing great. Do you just have the two plus the one on the way?"

Chuckling as she patted her bump, Amelia offered, "Uh…no. My husband and I have six, including this one. How about you?"

"Just the two, plus me. Just the three of us," Dena offered.

"C'mon over and join us," Amelia invited. "Owen?" Amelia stated as she reached her chair.

Owen glanced up and saw Amelia with another mom. He grabbed Gwen before standing up and turning around as he extended his hand, "Hi. I'm Owen."

Looking a little uncomfortable, Dena shifted her weight and lowered her chin, "Owen Hunt, right? Dr. Hunt?"

Smirking, Owen confirmed, "Yep. Here, I'm just Owen. I'm sorry, excuse me. Do we…uh… know each other professionally?"

"I just started working at Grey-Sloan. I recognize your face… you know, from the wall where all the pictures of the Chiefs are displayed?" Dena explained.

Owen blinked shyly then inquired, "So…how do you like Grey-Sloan?"

"It's been nice. Everyone has been welcoming and helpful. It seems like a great place to be," Dena offered.

"Remind me which department you're in…" Owen requested.

"I'm roving for now," Dena shared.

"Are you hoping for a position in a particular department?" Owen asked.

Dena smiled, "Actually, most of my experience is as a scrub nurse. I enjoy the OR."

Owen smiled. "Let's talk next time I'm there. I'll see if I can help. I'll be in during the day on Monday and Tuesday."

"Thanks," Dena grinned. "I really appreciate it."

* * *

After dinner, Amelia teased Owen, "I figured it out. You know why the ladies are chasing you, right?"

"No, I don't," Owen chuckled.

"They like you because you're nice," Amelia explained. "Like today at the field. Dena didn't flirt with you, but you were so thoughtful to encourage her to chat with you about an OR position."

Owen laughed softly, "Isn't that just being a gentleman? Or a nice guy?"

"Not every guy thinks about that," Amelia smiled as she swallowed a big drink of water with a shrug.

Chuckling, Owen inquired, "Should I stop being so nice


	20. Oliver's Broken Arm

**_Chapter 20: Oliver's Broken Arm_**

Working two days in a row meant Owen had the next two days off. Playing Mr. Mom, his day would include dropping the older kids off to school, spending the day with the twins, and then running the afternoon shuttle to lessons and practices.

After dropping off Finley, Oliver, and Bronwyn, Owen braved the interior of Starbucks with toddlers in tow. Gwen had a PT appointment at 9:30, so Owen was looking to waste some time before heading to the hospital. While he sipped his coffee, the twins shared a croissant and competed with one another for Owen's attention. Nearly every woman in the store had to stop by and flirt with the girls and ask about their age. The well-practiced explanation of fraternal versus identical twins was recited to a few folks who asked how the twins could look so different from one another.

The trio proceeded to the grocery store adjacent to the coffee shop once they completed their morning treat. Loading the girls into the larger portion of the cart, Owen was clear that they both remain seated. Even at 15 months old, this was one rule the twins followed without failure. Owen had seen too many unnecessary ER visits from kids toppling out of carts. His expectations were clear, consistent, and firm. Early morning shoppers commented on the girls – the questions about twins and admiration of the babies was a given at the grocery store as well as at Starbucks. Owen grabbed bananas, apples, bread, Goldfish crackers, jelly, honey, and cereal. Since he wasn't headed directly home, the milk and other refrigerated items on the list would have to wait.

After arriving at the hospital, Owen put Gwen in the stroller and held Ella's hand. Ella enjoyed walking and basically insisted on pulling Owen along as if she knew the way to their next stop. Much to her furious dismay, Owen dropped Ella off at the hospital daycare before taking Gwen to her PT appointment. The daycare worker encouraged Owen to step out even though Ella was in the midst of a full tilt tantrum. After apologizing, Owen reluctantly left with Gwen in his arms.

PT was among Gwen's favorite places. Not only did she get all the attention from whomever brought her to the appointment, she also had therapists who doted on her. At her appointment, her therapist monitored Gwen's gait and ability to balance. Together, they worked with her muscle contractions, posture, and joint alignment. The therapist encouraged Gwen to stand while holding onto a support, which was becoming easier with each visit. She also nudged the toddle to try standing without a support before the session ended. In the end, they concluded with walking practice using her swivel walker. Each step and each action were celebrated to encourage Gwen to stay motivated and engaged. When Gwen's ability wasn't quite what the therapist had hoped, she began asking questions about practices at home. Owen readily admitted that he tended to carry Gwen often. As Owen and Gwen prepared to leave, the therapist strongly urged Owen to have Gwen walk with her walker whenever and wherever possible rather than be carried. Deep down, Owen was glad another baby was on the way. He couldn't imagine consistently empty arms.

Returning to the hospital daycare took a bit longer than normal, as Owen encouraged Gwen to walk down the hallways. When he and Gwen arrived at the daycare room, the staff applauded and celebrated as Gwen, hands tightly grasping her walker, walked in. The attention made her giggle, then stop and applaud along with everyone else.

As Owen scanned the room for Ella, he spotted Amelia and Ella playing with playdough at a table. "Hey," he greeted as he leaned down to kiss his wife, "I didn't think we'd get to see you this morning."

"Me either," Amelia quipped with a frown. "They called me when Ella wouldn't settle down after fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry," Owen sighed with disappointment. He knelt down to Ella and looked her in the eyes, "Miss Ella, these tantrums are a problem." Ella locked her eyes on her daddy as if she understood each word. After a stare off, which Owen won, Ella sighed loudly and resumed pounding playdough.

The celebrated walker, the rebellious fit thrower, and their daddy kissed Amelia goodbye and headed home. Later, after lunch, Owen and the girls took naps. The morning had exhausted him, and he was thankful the twins fell asleep quickly. The day was unseasonably warm, so he left his balcony door open. As he faded off to sleep, he listened to the water, the leaves rustling in the wind, and birds singing outside.

* * *

As a parent of young children, time for sleep seemed consistently limited. At 2:00pm, after just over an hour of rest, Owen's cell phone rang. Startled, he jumped as the sound filled the room. He sleepily answered, "Dr. Hunt."

Mrs. Tonnington, the principal at the boys' school, was on the other side of the call. "Dr. Hunt, I'm calling about Oliver. He's fine, but we're concerned he may have broken his arm."

"Oh," Owen responded as he woke up and took in the words. "Umm… tell me more. Did you call 911? Is he bleeding? Conscious?"

"He is completely conscious and fully aware. He did not hit his head when he fell. The skin is not broken, but there is swelling and tenderness. He tells us it is painful and difficult to move, and we have ice on it. Since it didn't appear to be life-threatening, we decided to call you first," the principal explained.

"Thanks for your call. I'm on my way," Owen stated. With hesitation and afraid he'd have two very tired toddlers on his hands, Owen crept into the nursery. He carefully moved Gwen first and was able to move her into her car seat without fully waking her up. Binky in mouth and blankie in hand, she fell back to sleep right away. He set the diaper bag down on the floor of the Enclave and returned upstairs to deal with Ella.

"Ella," Owen whispered as he began to pick up his prickly girl, "Daddy needs to put you in your car seat, but you can sleep. Shhhhhhh…." He slowly lifted her up, grabbed her beloved Kitty toy and made sure a binkie was in hand. Rocking back and forth, Owen swayed to keep Ella groggy. She rested her head on his shoulder and began sucking on her binkie while grabbing his shirt in her fist. All the way down the stairs, Owen shhh'd her and spoke softly. Slipping her into her car seat, Owen kissed Ella's cheek and reassured her, "There you go, baby girl. Shhhhh….stay asleep. Dada's right here." Owen let out a sigh of relief as Ella flopped her head against the side of the car seat and continued to surrender to her nap.

As he drove the short distance to the school, Owen called Amelia. His call was picked up by voicemail. Guessing she was probably in surgery, he dictated a text, _need to connect briefly but asap._

Moments later, his phone rang as Amelia's voice came over the Bluetooth system, "Hi, O. I'm in surgery and you're on speaker."

"No problem," he assured her. "What are you working on?"

"What?" Amelia asked with a hint of shock. She asked herself if he really just called to ask about surgical details.

"Are you opening? Closing? Deep in the middle of a procedure?" Owen inquired calmly.

"Does it matter?" Amelia quipped as she rolled her eyes and motioned to Edwards, "Suction, please."

"Amelia…" Owen stated plainly. He decided to act as if the call was dropped and hung up his phone. Telling her about Oiver's arm when she was deep inside someone's brain would not be helpful.

Almost immediately, his phone rang, and he was greeted with Amelia's voice. "What's wrong? Are the kids ok?" she asked with concern.

"Where are you with your patient?" Owen repeated.

"I stepped away. Edwards is closing. You have me sufficiently freaked out," Amelia shared.

"All is well. Ollie fell and hurt his arm at school and I'm bringing him in. No trauma, no head wound, he's conscious," Owen explained.

"Should I meet you there?" Amelia inquired.

"I'm just pulling up to the school. Let me take a look and call you back," Owen promised. He parked alongside the playground where he saw a small group of people surrounding a scene. The students had been sent back to their classrooms. Just a teacher's aide, Finley, Naomi, Mrs. Tonnington, and a playground supervisor remained outside with Oliver.

Finley and Naomi came running up toward Owen. Rolling his eyes, Finley shared, "Dad, he's cracking jokes."

Naomi added, "I think he's only doing that to pretend he isn't hurting. Poor kiddo."

Owen smiled and asked them to wait at the car in case the twins awoke. He quickly stepped over to Oliver, who was leaning against part of a play structure.

"Hey, Dad," Oliver smirked, obviously attempting to hide his discomfort.

"Hi, buddy," Owen greeted as he knelt down and set his med bag beside him. "Let's take a look here…"

As Owen peeled the ice pack away, Oliver exclaimed with wonder, "That bruise is wicked nasty. I want a picture of it!"

"Hold your arms out in front of you like this so I can see them next to each other," Owen advised. Oliver held his arms out. His right arm was visibly different and had a large bump in it. When Owen palpated around that area, Oliver no longer found the process intriguing. "Ouch!" he screamed, "Don't do that, Dad!"

"Okay, okay," Owen relented. "Where's your pain from 1 to 10?"

"Seven," Oliver assessed.

Trying to distract Ry from the ibuprofen shot he was about to give him, he asked, "I'm going to hold on to your good arm. You show me exactly where it hurts on your bad one." As Oliver pressed the area, Owen slipped a shot into Oliver's other arm.

"That was so not cool!" Oliver roared.

"But it worked, didn't it?" Owen grimaced. "Sorry, pal. I knew if I asked you, you'd try to talk me out of it. The shot's going to help the swelling and pain."

"I don't care. That was not cool, Dad. Not ok at all," Oliver expressed loudly with a mixture of pouting and anger. "Do they let you do that to other people's kids at the hospital? 'Cause they shouldn't."

"Nope. I just get to do it to my own kids." Owen explained calmly as he continued, "Let's immobilize your arm temporarily." He tied a makeshift sling around Oliver's neck and explained, "Let's get you over to the hospital and Dr. Torres or Dr. Karev can take a look, ok?"

Oliver nodded but insisted, "No. More. Shots. Dad. Do you hear me? That was beyond uncool." Owen smirked and thanked the adults who had helped. He explained that he'd take both Naomi and Finley with him since he was set to pick Naomi up that day anyway.

When he sat down in the car, Owen had three texts and two voicemails from Amelia. He smiled and handed his phone to Finley, "Would you call your mom, please?"

Finley returned her calls from Owen's phone. Thinking Owen was calling, Amelia's first words were, "So? I've been waiting."

"Hi, Mom," Finley responded. "We're on our way to the hospital. Dad thinks Oliver broke his arm."

"How is he? Is he hurting?" Amelia inquired.

Finley grimaced, "Oliver, Mom wants to know if you're hurting."

"Tell her I'm a seven," Oliver winced.

"I heard," Amelia confirmed, saving Finley the repetition.

Owen asked Finley to put the phone on speaker and he interjected, "I'm pretty sure he has a transverse fracture of the ulna. We're on our way. Can you arrange for someone to pick up Bronwyn?"

"Sure," Amelia promised. "I'll call Lynne and I'll see you all soon."

* * *

When the melee minus Bronwyn arrived at the hospital, the twins were awake and hungry and Oliver's ability to pretend he didn't hurt was failing. Oliver really believed he needed to enter through the ambulance bay, but Owen insisted they park in a regular ER spot and walk. Owen asked Finley and Naomi to stay with the twins and dig around in the bag for some snacks while he handed Oliver off to Amelia.

"Oh, sweet boy," Amelia groaned in pity when she approached Owen and Oliver just outside the car. She wrapped her arms around his head and stroked his hair. "Let's get you inside and take care of that arm." Oliver leaned into his mom with resignation, then mumbled, "Dad sneak shotted me."

"He what?" Amelia asked.

Owen sighed loudly, "I gave him a shot of ibuprofen when he wasn't looking. You got him? I've got Finley, Naomi, and the twins in the car."

"Lynne's on her way, then she'll pick up Bronwyn. You want to stay out here until she arrives or bring them all in?" Amelia wondered aloud.

"You've got Ollie. I'll sit tight out here and then be in," Owen decided. "Order the x-ray when you get inside, so it's done before Karev or Torres gets down there…that'll save some time."

Oliver received the royal treatment in the ER since nearly everyone knew him. Jackson carried him to x-ray and then to an exam room. Once in the room, Jackson set the exam table so the upper third was raised. "Here, Ollie. Rest your back against the higher part and put your arm about your head. I'll go grab some ice."

While Jackson was out of the room, Oliver asked Amelia, "Will I get to see the x-rays?"

"Yep. You could even snap a picture of them with your phone if you want," she smiled.

When Jackson returned to the room, he helped distract Oliver from the pain. "I'm thinking we could consider some plastic surgery while you're here," Jackson teased as he began drawing cartoons showing how they could change Oliver's face. Oliver laughed when he surveyed the possibilities. As soon as Karev came in, Jackson excused himself and told Amelia to let him know if she needed him.

"Hey, buddy," Karev said as he came through the door. "Did we already get a picture of this?" he asked as he removed the ice and surveyed the bruise.

Amelia responded, "Films are on their way. Dr. Wilson is waiting for them."

Alex nodded and sat on the doctor's stool. "Dude…what did you do? Don't tell me a girl did that to you."

Oliver laughed, "Umm… NO! I was walking on the top of the bars where you do the balancing thing with your arms and I kinda slipped."

"Kinda, huh?" Alex chuckled. Oliver shrugged. "Where's your pain from 1 to 10?"

"Maybe a six, almost a seven. It still really hurts, but I don't want another shot," Oliver clarified.

"Shot? Who gave you a shot?" Alex asked as he surveyed the chart.

Amelia disclosed, "Owen felt it necessary to inject ibuprofen in the field which wouldn't have been so bad if Oliver had known it was coming."

"He sneak shotted me," Oliver huffed. "Is that even allowed?"

"That's just wrong, dude. I'm sorry," Karev sympathized. "Geez…Dads, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Oliver said as he rolled his eyes.

Karev looked at Amelia and grimaced. He explained, "I can give him codeine, but that might wreak havoc on his stomach. That's the standard. Dilaudid is another option, but then we're using narcotics. What do you think, Mom?"

"Let's try some fresh ice for a while and see what Owen thinks. He should be in here any minute," Amelia suggested.

Owen walked in as she finished speaking and immediately inquired, "See what Owen thinks about what?"

"Dilaudid," Amelia responded.

"That's fine. The ibuprofen isn't helping?" Owen asked as he began to approach Oliver and studiously examine the arm.

"Dadddddd! Dr. Karev's doctoring me now. Step away with your needles and stuff," Oliver commanded.

Owen laughed and put his hands in the air as Jo entered. He asked her, "What's the verdict?"

Jo slid the films onto the screen, and everyone looked, "Dr. Torres hasn't reviewed these yet but she promised she'd be right down."

Alex stood up and tapped on one film, "Looks like a pretty simple and clean break. Jo, let's give him ½ teaspoon of liquid Dilaudid and prep for a cast. He won't need surgery." Turning to Oliver, Alex asked, "Who's doing your cast, dude? Me or Dr. Torres?"

"Who does them better?" Oliver asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

Callie happened to enter the room at that point and responded, "Actually, Dr. Wilson is amazing with casts and she is much cooler about letting you pick colors. She's less bossy than Dr. Karev too," Callie giggled.

She sat down on the doctor's stool that Alex had just vacated and began her exam, "Let's take a look, Oliver. I promise not to touch where it hurts." Touching his fingers, Callie requested that he grab her finger. Then she asked Oliver, "Did anyone show you the x-rays or did all these doctors just hog the screen?"

"They hogged it," Oliver shrugged.

Callie had Alex pick Oliver up and hold him by the screen as she explained, "Yep…you broke it. See right there? That crack all the way across the bone? That's the break. I'm guessing you fell off something and tried to catch your body using your arm."

"Pretty much," Oliver confirmed. "I was walking on top of the bars that you're supposed to balance your hands on."

"Hmmm…didn't work so well, did it?" Callie teased as she messed up Oliver's hair. "Dr. Wilson's going to start your cast. Do you have any questions for me before I leave?"

Oliver responded, "Can I still be a Blue Angels pilot if I broke my arm?"

"I am pretty sure you can," Callie responded with a wink. "Ask your dad to check with his military contacts just to make sure." She discussed prescription details with Alex and stepped out.

Jo re-entered with the meds and then explained, "We've got tons of colors, Oliver." She looked down at a note and began with enthusiasm, "blue, light blue, pink, purple, red, black, yellow, green, orange, and white."

"Can I have more than one color?" Oliver asked.

Just as Owen was about to say no, Jo responded, "Yep. Two colors. I can do them like stripes. Three gets too complicated though. Two's the limit."

"Regular blue and yellow," Oliver shared decisively. "Blue Angels' colors."


	21. Flashbacks

**_Chapter 21: Flashbacks_**

The excitement of Oliver's broken arm and the day to day realities of the Shepherd-Hunt family over the past week had sufficiently worn Owen out. Knowing he did not have to work on Wednesday, he willingly and happily succumbed to sleep on Tuesday night.

When he'd first gone to bed, exhausted after a long shift, Amelia had convinced Owen to let the twins and Bronwyn join him. The three little girls were not at all interested in calming down or getting ready for bed. Amelia hoped that if they were snuggling Daddy, they'd settle down and begin to fade. Instead, Owen fell fast asleep and the three girls were jumping around him on the bed when Amelia came in to check on them. Hours later, at 3:00 am, Amelia was nuzzled up alongside her husband, providing enough radiating pregnancy heat to cause him to lie on the bed without any sheet or blankets.

The REM sleep had finally arrived, and Owen's mind began to dream as he slept deeply. The first scene recalled the desert. The dry heat and the blowing sand surrounded him. His mouth, parched, craved water. The bright sunshine nearly blinded him as he squinted in an attempt to survey his surroundings.

Rapidly shifting from the scene, his mind moved to the OR in Darfur and the attack. Repeatedly, the detailed memories of the shooting played in his head. Key scenes recurred as Owen relived being thrown down, kicked, and shot over and over. Owen tossed and turned on the bed abruptly, mumbling. Amelia awoke, sleepily taking stock of her location and wondering why Owen was moving so actively. Eventually, his mind replayed the scene of the soldier harassing Risa. In his dream and in reality, Owen yelled at the attacker, demanding the soldier stop accosting his personnel.

Owen's loud bellow abruptly jolted everyone awake. In the Master Bedroom, Owen's heart was pounding as he shook and gasped for air. He sat against the headboard with his knees bent in front of his chest, attempting to catch his breath and talk himself down from the experience. Although he heard the twins crying in the background, he knew he was not steady enough to interact with them. He felt paralyzed and unable to respond.

"Owen, what's up?" Amelia asked with concern as she slowly sat up and touched his shoulder.

He flinched away from her touch and explained with a shaky voice, "Flashbacks. My heart is pounding. Can't stop shaking. I'm… I'm gonna be sick."

Amelia could hear the girls crying in the background, "It's over, O. It's over, baby. You're safe."

"I know, I know," he gasped desperately as he tightly held a pillow.

"Shhhhhhh," Amelia whispered without touching him, afraid he would only flinch again.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized.

"Walk around a little. Even if it's just 10 steps," Amelia encouraged.

He shook his head, "I can't." He began to hyperventilate.

"Owen, steady. Deep, slow breaths," Amelia urged.

"I don't think I can move," Owen shared as his voice shook.

"One second at a time, Owen. Just breathe…nice and slow," Amelia advised.

His breathing shifted as he offered again, "I'm so, so sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Amelia whispered as she instinctually stroked his hair. Owen recoiled and waved his arm in the air attempting to brush her hand away. "I'm going to go check on the kids," Amelia reassured him. "Are you going to be ok if I step out for a minute?" He nodded as he continued to grasp the pillow.

Amelia stepped into the hallway and looked across the hall into Bronwyn's room. Finley was holding Bronwyn in his arms and attempting to calm her down as she sniffled, "Shhh…it's ok, Bronwyn. Dad just had a bad dream. It's ok."

"He screameded and it scareded me," Bronwyn explained as she caught Amelia's eyes.

"I know, sweetie," Amelia offered as she stroked Bronwyn's hair. "It's ok. Finley's right. Daddy just had a bad dream. Everything is ok."

Sniffling in response, Bronwyn asked, "Can you sleep with me, Mommy?"

"No, I'm sorry, Bronwyn. I need to check on the babies," Amelia explained as she caught Finley's eye.

Finley assured his mom, "Don't worry. I'll stay with her."

"Where's Oliver?" Amelia asked Finley.

"Where he always goes when this happens – he's hiding in his closet with the dogs," Finley explained.

Amelia opened the nursery door gently and whispered serenely, "Mama's here, girls. It's ok."

"Up, Mama! Ella, up!" Ella sniffled as snot and tears covered her face. She held onto the edge of the crib and jumped up and down to emphasize her desire.

"Gwen. Up, up, up, Mama!" Gwen joined in as she cried.

Amelia grabbed a tissue and wiped off Ella's face, sharing, "I'll be right there, Gwen. You're ok." Her voice shook as she spoke. Owen's flashbacks were unnerving for everyone. Focusing on the girls helped her get through the moment. Amelia picked up Ella and began to change her diaper. Baby-talking and interacting with Ella, Amelia's sing-songy voice normalized the scene. "Ella, Mama's going to change sister now. Where's your kitty toy?" Amelia asked, hoping to keep Ella engaged as she set her on the floor. Ella immediately began to cry because she wanted to be held.

"It's ok, Ella. Mommy needs to pick up Gwendolyn," Amelia assured Ella. She tended to Gwen's tear-filled face and began to change her diaper. Gwen patted Amelia's face as her gathered fingers bounced to and from her mouth. She wanted a snack. Meanwhile, Ella was just beginning to climb the changing table in search of her kitty toy. "Aaahh...ahhh… Miss Ella, let's not climb that," Amelia encouraged.

"Kee…keee," Ella attempted to clarify as she looked around the room with a puzzled expression.

Amelia scanned the nursery and saw Kitty under Ella's crib, "There's Kitty. Can you crawl under your crib and give her loves?" Ella crawled quickly and with excited breaths of anticipation. She grabbed her Kitty, brought it out, kissed it, and held it up for Amelia to kiss. "Hi Kitty Cat," Amelia smiled as she kissed the toy.

"Mommy?" Oliver called from the hallway.

"I'm in the nursery, buddy," Amelia answered with exhaustion.

"What happened? Why did Daddy scream?" Oliver asked as he slunk into the room with the dogs in tow.

Amelia grimaced, "He had a bad dream, honey. Everything is ok. Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

"Can you come snuggle me?" Oliver asked.

Her heart sinking, Amelia suggested, "Maybe in a little while. I have an idea. How about if we all stay in here together?"

Oliver nodded and sat down on the floor, hugging one of the dogs. Amelia went to Bronwyn's room and encouraged Finley and Bronwyn to come down.

Once they were all present, Amelia explained, "Guys, I need to go check on Daddy. Can you all stay here with each other for just a minute?"

Returning back to her bedroom, she approached Owen. She grasped his face in her hands and kissed him. She whispered, "I'm here. I love you."

Owen stared forward, numb and motionless.

She suggested gently, "What do you need to do? Do you need a walk? Do you want to go back to bed?"

"If I fall asleep, it will just come back," he responded flatly. "Better to just keep moving." Owen closed his eyes and his body appeared to deflate. Then he stood, brushed his hand along Amelia's arm, and mumbled without emotion, "I'm ok. Take care of the kids. I'm… I'm going downstairs."

Gathering all the kids in bed with her, Amelia snuggled her babies around her hoping to soothe them all back to sleep. She calmly reassured them that everything was ok and hummed a soft song as she rubbed backs, shared kisses, and stroked heads. Finley fell naturally into his role of junior parent, snuggling the girls and slipping back to his own bed once the girls had faded. Oliver remained snuggled up to his mom, leaving the dogs on the floor to fend for themselves.

When the sun rose, Amelia woke up in a tired fog. She unburied herself from the pile of kiddos and slowly made her way downstairs. To her surprise, she discovered Owen preparing breakfast for the kids. "Hey…" Amelia insisted, "I can handle all that. Go rest, O."

"I'm good. I've got it," Owen mumbled.

"Owen…" Amelia sighed. "Do you want me to call Dr. Wyatt and see if she has an opening today?"

As he placed some fruit slices and Cheerios on each highchair tray, he shook his head.

"Are you sure?" Amelia pleaded with concern.

Owen looked up at Amelia seriously and snapped, "I'm sure. Thank you."

Amelia pursed her lips, knowing that insisting on a respectful tone would not be helpful. She chose not to respond. Sitting in her regular spot at the table sipping coffee, Amelia looked outside. Whitecaps emerged and faded in the rough water as wind gusts steadily blew.

After flipping rapidly through the pages of the latest Seattle magazine, Owen stopped and rested his chin in his hand. While he wasn't anxious and panicked any longer, the post-flashback anger and edginess were beginning to settle in.

"Owen?" Amelia asked blankly.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Amelia inquired.

He slapped the magazine down on the table and stood up. Walking to the large windows, Owen stood gazing at the stormy waters. He leaned his head against the glass and cleared his throat before proceeding to the couch and flopping down.

Amelia finished preparing the kids' breakfast, then walked over to Owen and attempted to run her fingers through his hair as she patted his shoulder.

He shifted his head to the side to avoid her hand and slowly muttered, "I… I'm sorry. Please, Amelia. Please don't touch me."

Amelia pursed her lips and repeated internally to herself that his statement was not personal. Barely audible, she uttered, "Ok."

* * *

After Amelia returned from taking the older kids to school, Owen mumbled that he'd like to ride to the hospital with her. She explained she'd be ready shortly and went upstairs. Owen nodded without comment, walked upstairs to grab a sweatshirt and brought the diaper bag down with him when he returned.

The ride to the hospital was quiet as Owen stared out the side window, both ashamed of his behavior and unable to reign it in. He felt like a still-boiling tea kettle that had been moved to another burner. The intensity remained even though the immediate heat was quelled.

As Amelia pulled the car into Owen's space, he grimaced as he stepped out. Without a goodbye, he walked into the hospital with his head cast down, hoping that nobody would stop him as he headed to Wyatt's office. While disappointed, Amelia understood that Owen's dark side often emerged after an intense flashback. She didn't quite appreciate being left to take both girls and their diaper bag up to daycare alone, but she knew life wasn't always ideal.

Jackson happened to walk by and see Amelia attempt to balance her briefcase and the diaper bag. "Hey, hey…wait a minute. Let me help," Jackson suggested as he grabbed the briefcase and diaper bag.

Grinning with relief, Amelia thanked him. "Can you take this one?" she asked as she handed Gwen to him.

"Of course, I can," Jackson said with a lilt, "Hello, darling girl. How's Gwendolyn today?" He kissed her cheek and received a baby kiss in response. "Oh…thank you for that," Avery joked in an upbeat tone as he wiped the slobber off his cheek.

Amelia laughed, "She's… uh… a little generous with her love."

"Apparently," Jackson smiled.

Amelia's pager sounded. She was being called 911. The patient she was set to operate on shortly was coding. "Damn, I've gotta run. Truly run. Sorry. Keep them, drop them off at daycare. Whatever works. Car keys are in the diaper bag. My patient's coding. Bye bye girls," Amelia spat out quickly as she blew kisses to the twins and ran up the stairs.

"Ooohhh-kayyyy, ladies," Jackson stated. "Let's head upstairs."

* * *

In Dr. Wyatt's office, Owen was a mixture of anger, tears, confusion and exhaustion. He didn't know where to begin and he shared that openly when Dr. Wyatt asked her standard initial question, "Here we are…what shall we focus upon today?"

She observed, "You look overwrought, Owen."

"My night was bad. Or this morning. Or I don't know."

"What happened, Owen?" Dr. Wyatt inquired.

"The whole scene. The shooting…over and over. Being thrown down again and again. Reliving the pain of the bullets. Unable to move. Being loaded into the chopper. Kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked," Owen sputtered in incomplete sentences.

"You had a flashback," Dr. Wyatt summarized and confirmed.

"Yeah. Over and over and over without pause…one bad scene after another. Thrown down and kicked then feeling that again and again. I felt his boot digging into my side, slamming into me without mercy. Then the bullets – like each one entered multiple times repeatedly…" Owen disclosed.

"And?" Dr. Wyatt prodded.

"I saw the scumbag attacking Risa. He disgusted me. He was fondling her, starting to open her shirt. I yelled at him," Owen detailed. He paused and took in a few deep breaths. "I woke up in a sweat, my heart was pounding. I yelled loud enough to wake up the kids, but I couldn't go to them. I was a wreck."

"How did that make you feel?" she inquired.

"I was in utter panic from the flashbacks. I heard the girls crying but I… I couldn't move," Owen stated flatly. "What kind of father can't respond to his daughters' cries? I was not only on the ground, beaten, shot and useless. I was stuck on my bed, unable to move."

"You weren't on the ground, Owen," she pointed out factually. "You were at home."

"I couldn't respond to my girls. I was frozen," Owen wilted.

Dr. Wyatt observed him before responding, then proposed, "And what did you feel? Guilt? Shame? Fear? Anger?"

"Yeah… all of that. Fear. Fear I'm worthless. Fear I'm not whole," Owen mumbled. Owen went on to describe his interactions with Amelia. He hated that he was unable to pull himself from the emotional pit and aftermath as Amelia attempted to help.

As he detailed the events aloud, Amelia sent him a text letting him know that she was available whenever he was done. Her patient had died, so she would not be going into surgery. Owen looked down at the text, "Her patient died. No surgery."

"Do you feel ready to talk to her about this? To share what you've shared with me?" Dr. Wyatt prodded.

Owen sent a text and Amelia arrived shortly thereafter. He recounted the intensity of the dream, then shared his remorse about their subsequent interactions. Amelia listened with care.

Amelia grasped Owen's shaking hand that was set on his leg. She detailed, "How can I best help in the moment and in the hours following? I want you to have your space or whatever you need to come down, and I want to be there for you. But, Owen, tell me what you need. If I step in and take over with the kids so you have space, is that helpful? Do I need to find someone to care for the kids so I can sit with you? Tell me now when we're not in crisis and then I'll know what to do when we are."

"It can be difficult to ask for what we need," Dr. Wyatt observed.

Owen leaned onto Amelia's shoulder. "I need you to sit with me. You don't need to say a thing. Just don't leave me alone. Don't touch me – when it happens, it's like my nerves are hypersensitive."

"Ok," Amelia nodded slowly.

"The kids, yeah, they have to be tended first. I get that," Owen assured everyone.

"Ok," Amelia uttered again.

"Time. I need time. Time to be raw. Time to be numb. No questions. No fixing," Owen admitted.

"Ok," Amelia responded a third time as she lifted his hand and kissed it. "Ok. You got it, O."


	22. Happy Anniversary

**_Chapter 22: Happy Anniversary _**

When he woke up, Owen rolled over and snuggled up to Amelia. Nuzzling his cheek into her neck, he whispered, "Happy Anniversary, Mia."

Amelia opened her eyes, smiled and feigned ignorance, "That _is_ today, isn't it? Are you going to surprise me with a trip to Turks and Caicos or a fancy dinner at the top of the Space Needle?" She stretched her entire body and her growing baby bump, now at 29 weeks, stood tall.

Chuckling, Owen admitted, "Honestly, I wasn't sure what you'd want to do. The trip to the Caribbean might be a stretch, but I'm willing to entertain other suggestions." Not one to usually talk with his hands moving, Owen's left hand joined in the discussion. He wondered if she would notice why.

"Let's save the Caribbean get away for another time - I'm huge," Amelia mourned as she grasped her bump.

"You're pregnant, glowing, and beautiful," Owen assured her as he swept a piece of her hair behind her ear and kissed her gently after each word he spoke. The kiss extended and was about to lead even further when Oliver burst into the room.

"Mom! Finley is being a big, huge, mean bully," Oliver declared as he stomped in seeking justice.

Steps behind his brother, Finley asserted, "Dad, that's not true. Oliver keeps coming in my room and taking my tie or a shoe or another part of my uniform and then doesn't listen when I grab him and tell him to give it back."

Amelia looked at Owen with a wide smile and whispered, "Happy Anniversary."

"Yeah," Owen chuckled. "You rest, I've got this." Owen, unable to get out of bed without certain obvious physical features, looked at both boys sternly. "Ollie, have you been bothering Finley?"

"I was just having fun. Just playing. It's not like…" Oliver tried to explain.

"Stop. So, the answer is yes?" Owen confirmed.

"Yeah, but I was just…" Oliver attempted again.

"Stop," Owen called out again, this time with his hand in the air. Owen turned to Finley and asked, "And how did you respond?" At this point in the conversation, Amelia slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Distracted, she didn't see the small wrapped gift waiting for her on her nightstand.

"Dad, he was stealing my stuff," Finley complained.

"So what did you do?" Owen asked again.

"He was bugging me," argued Finley.

"Dad! He caught me by my hair and then punched me in the gut," Oliver disclosed.

"I did not punch you, Oliver. You're exaggerating," Finley insisted.

Owen looked at the clock and then back at both boys, "You have 15 minutes until Lynne takes you to school. I'd suggest you go to your own rooms, finish getting ready, and go eat breakfast without interacting with one another."

"But, Dad, Finley should be in trouble for pulling my hair," Oliver whined.

"Last time I checked, thieves got sent to prison and you're a thief, you little punk," Finley threatened.

"Enough," Owen said calmly and quietly. "You both know what I asked you to do. I suggest you do it."

"Owen!" Amelia called out from the bathroom, "Could you come in here please? Now?"

"Go, gentlemen," Owen ordered as both boys slunk out of the bedroom disappointed the other was not in trouble. Standing up and throwing on a robe, Owen called out before he reached Amelia, "What's up, Mia?"

Owen opened the door and stepped in. She was standing at the sink washing her hands. Seeing nothing of obvious concern, Owen put his arm around her shoulders and repeated himself, "What's up?"

"I think I need to go to the hospital," Amelia said with a shaky voice.

Owen furrowed his brows and inquired, "Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding and the baby isn't moving," Amelia reported, trying to remain calm.

"Go lie down. I'll be right back," Owen instructed. He hobbled down the stairs far faster than he should have and headed toward the garage. His pace and the fact that he walked without a cane caught the attention of all five children and their nanny.

Lynne called out calmly, "Everything ok, Dr. Hunt?"

"Yeah," Owen quipped with pursed lips as he carried his med bag in from the car and limped up the stairs. "No worries. No problems at all. Just keep forgetting to restock my bag," he chuckled nervously.

When he entered the bedroom, he began peppering Amelia with questions, "Any labor pains? How's your heartrate? How would you describe the bleeding?" Owen fumbled through his bag hoping to find some sort of labor-stopping intervention. He placed his stethoscope on her bump and was reassured to hear the baby's heartbeat.

"Owen," Amelia stated calmly. When he did not respond, she repeated, "Owen…"

"Yeah?" he said quickly as he looked up.

"Stop. No labor pains. My BP is fine. Throw on some clothes and let's calmly head to the hospital," Amelia reassured her concerned husband.

Owen nodded and took a deep breath. He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. After walking over to the closet and finding a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he could throw on, he grabbed clothes for Amelia and took them over to her. "How can I help, Mia?"

"I'm fine. I can dress myself," she shared with a crooked grin. She reached over and covered his cheeks with her hands, pulling him toward her. She kissed him and shared, "You…are my life. I love you. And you really are adorable when you're fretting."

Lynne knocked softly on the bedroom door and Amelia called for her to come in. Looking concerned, Lynne asked, "Is everything fine?"

"It will be," Amelia assured her. "I'm having a little bleeding. I'm sure it's nothing. As soon as you leave, we'll head to the hospital to have it checked out. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Ok," Lynne nodded. "Can I help in some way?"

"Reassure and take care of the melee, Lynne. That's a tremendous help," Owen smirked.

* * *

Owen drove up to the ambulance bay and walked inside with the help of his cane. The first person he saw was Wilson. "Wilson!" he hollered.

"Dr. Hunt? Are you ok? What brings you in this morning?" Jo asked inquisitively.

In a low volume, Owen shared, "My wife is in the car. She's 29 weeks along. Having some bleeding. Can you get her set up down here and page OB or get her up to OB? I'll move our car before an ambulance crashes into it."

"No, you won't," Jo insisted. "You'll sit down in Exam 2 and I'll bring Dr. Shepherd-Hunt in there immediately. I'll find someone to move your car." She held her hands out so he could give her the keys and spotted his tattoo, "Nice tatt, Dr. Hunt."

Owen smirked and patted Jo's shoulders, "Thank you." He and his cane hobbled toward the exam room.

"Monroe!" Jo called out to an intern, "I need you to go park a car. Follow me."

Alex, who had come down to shoot the breeze with his girlfriend, followed her to the bay out of curiosity. He caught up to her before she reached the doors, grabbed a robe and threw it on as he asked, "Whatcha got?"

"Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. Pregnancy problems. And Dr. Hunt trying to hobble around and deal with it. I'm taking her to Exam 2. Oh, and Hunt got a tattoo," Jo spat out quickly before reaching the car. Alex looked at Jo with a puzzled expression. Why would a tattoo have anything to do with the situation at hand?

Jo opened the passenger door and smiled widely, "Good morning, Dr. Shepherd-Hunt. Would you be more comfortable in a wheelchair or on a gurney?"

"I'd be more comfortable walking," Amelia insisted as she lowered her chin and looked at Jo through the upper portion of her eyes.

"Yeah, that's not happening," Alex declared. He'd already brought out a chair and ordered, "C'mon, load on up. The sooner you sit down, the sooner I'll hide you away from everyone and their freaking curiosity."

"What about our car?" Amelia asked as she sat down in the wheelchair.

"An intern is going to take care of it," Jo promised. Alex, Jo and Amelia made their way inside and to Exam 2. Owen's brows were impinging on the bridge of his nose as he watched the trio enter the room. He walked over to his wife and stroked her hair, asking, "How are you?" He looked terrified.

"Owen, I'll be fine," Amelia assured him. "Can someone find Annalisa or Arizona?"

"On it. A fetal monitor is on its way. Lie back and let me get some basics out of the way. Jo, will you get her vitals and start a workup, please? I'll be right back," Alex requested.

"Absolutely," Jo nodded as she began to place a thermometer in Amelia's mouth and wrapped a BP cuff around her arm. She smiled sweetly at Owen and Amelia and encouraged, "Let's start at the beginning. You woke up this morning, and…"

Amelia described the estimated blood loss and confirmed she had no cramping or contractions. Jo called for a portable ultrasound and shared the bullets when Arizona walked in.

Arizona declared with loving disappointment, "I thought we weren't going to have drama this time around." She hooked up the fetal monitor that had just arrived and listened for the baby's heartbeat. "Amelia, everything looks great. Heart rates are fine, no contractions, your vitals are stable, no fever. Here's what I'd like to do: let's keep you monitored for now and move you up to L&D. There is no reason to be in a hurry – everything looks steady."

"That'd be great," Amelia smiled softly as she held her hand toward her husband. "Owen?"

He responded as he grasped her hand and kissed it. "I'm right here with you."

Once settled into a room, Arizona explained that they would start with an ultrasound, "I try to avoid third trimester internal exams because of the chance of infection. Let's give the ultrasound a try first and take a look at the placenta." She moved the transducer over Amelia's bump and smiled broadly, "Look at that! Hi, baby. You're looking great. I bet you're wondering about all this fuss."

Arizona looked up at Owen and Amelia and reassured them, "See how he's sucking his thumb? He doesn't have a concern in the world. That's a great sign. His little world seems to be fine."

"He wasn't moving earlier," Amelia mentioned.

Arizona reassured her friend, "At this stage in the game, he has extended periods of sleeping and waking. Maybe he was simply sleeping."

Arizona was able to definitively rule out any placenta concerns. She turned off the ultrasound and wound the cord around the transducer as she handed Amelia a few towels to wipe off the gel. Owen grasped them and gently tended Amelia's baby bump, concluding his task with a gentle kiss on her belly.

"These kind of questions are always fun between us, but I need to ask: when did you have sex last?" Arizona inquired.

"Last night," Owen shrugged.

Amelia smiled up at him with a glimmer in her eye, "Well, more like early this morning. I mean, yes, last night but then…"

"That's enough detail," Arizona smirked. "I'm pretty sure that's what caused the bleeding. We could screen for infection, but that would involve a pelvic exam that wouldn't be very comfortable. Besides, it isn't ideal to screen within 24 hours after intercourse. Amelia, that's your call."

"Let's wait," Amelia shrugged.

"That works for me. Let's keep you here for a couple hours, watch the monitors and keep track of the bleeding," Arizona explained. "Sound like a plan?"

Amelia nodded and Owen grinned as he sat beside his wife's bed. When Arizona stepped out, Amelia patted the spot beside her and Owen cuddled up next to her on the bed. He set his head on Amelia's shoulder, let out a large sigh and muttered, "Happy Anniversary, Mia. Party at Grey Sloan in Room 434."

In response, Amelia kissed the top of Owen's head and chuckled. "We seem to have a knack for false alarms and peculiar experiences. I love you, O." He fell asleep with his left hand on her baby bump. Glancing down later when the baby kicked, Amelia spotted ink on his ring finger. Assuming it was from a permanent marker or ballpoint, she licked her finger and tried to rub it off. When that didn't succeed, she shrugged and opened up a magazine.

A few minutes later, still intrigued, she grasped his hand and brought it closer to her face. At first, the small lettering looked like some sort of design. As she studied it, she realized it was partially a design but also her name. On the top side of his ring finger and underneath, it read _Mia_. Patterned lines filled in the space between each name.

Fascinated by the fact that Owen had gotten a tattoo, Amelia turned his hand up and back as she studied it. He woke up, barely opened his eyes, and whispered, "What do you think?"

"I think you have a tattoo," Amelia responded flatly, "with my name."

Nearly giddy, Owen smirked. He wrapped his arm around her proudly and squeezed, "Now people will know I'm married even when I take my ring off and wander to the cafeteria."

"Umm… yeah," Amelia replied in disbelief, "they will."

Propping himself up on his elbow, Owen looked at her with a disappointed frown, "You don't like it."

Forcing a grin, Amelia insisted, "I didn't say that."

"But…" Owen inquired.

"I'm… I guess I'm just surprised." Amelia shrugged playfully, "You've just never struck me as a tattoo guy." She paused before adding with a smirk, "but, yeah… there's my name. Right there… on your finger." Giggling, she concluded with, "Now, you're either stuck with me forever or you just tremendously shrunk your future dating pool." She kissed his finger and then worked her way up his arm and to his lips.

* * *

After being monitored for a few hours and experiencing no further bleeding, Arizona released Amelia with the caveat that she rest for the remainder of the day.

Unable to carry her or physically assist in a way he'd prefer, Owen walked alongside Amelia as she returned to the upstairs bedroom. While she took a shower, he sat on the balcony with a cup of coffee. He glanced inside when he heard the water turn off. A few minutes later, Amelia opened the door. She headed toward him as she towel dried her hair. She was dressed in one of his big t-shirts and a pair of maternity PJ pants.

"I think I'm going to lie down and watch some TV. Wanna join me?" she inquired.

Owen turned and smiled at her, "I was thinking that we probably both need some food. What sounds good?"

"Bacon," she smirked.

"Just bacon?" he laughed.

Amelia shrugged and offered a coy grin in response, "And another peek at that cute tatt."

He held up his hand and added, "How about if I surprise you?"

"Haven't you surprised me already?" Amelia grinned as she grasped the base of his ring finger between her thumb and forefinger.

Owen chuckled, "I meant surprise you with something for breakfast."

"That works," she giggled. She kissed his tattoo and headed to bed, musing, "Actually, I think I really like this."

While Owen was away picking up food, Amelia ran through all of the channels on TV multiple times. Nothing piqued her interest. She turned the TV off and turned to set the remote on her nightstand. As she set it down, she noticed the crisply wrapped box with a simple bow. Underneath it was an envelope. Written in Owen's writing, the outside of the envelope read _Mia._

Wondering briefly if she should wait to open it, Amelia grasped the gift and admired the wrapping. The plain, thick black wrap was sharply folded at each juncture. A one-inch wide ribbon tied in a bow adorned the package. As if her mother were standing over her shoulder reminding her of proper gift opening etiquette, Amelia set the box down with a sigh and opened the envelope.

She slid the card out of its envelope. The card itself was nothing amazing – a simple but lovely card with a mushy set of lines about love and marriage that Owen had spent an hour selecting. Inside, a folded note was written on, of all things, paper with an embossed US Army heading. Unfolding the paper, Owen's scrawl appeared:

_Mia – I'm told that the appropriate gift for a second anniversary is either cotton or china. Cotton was too wide a category for me – I couldn't figure out something specific. And china? Well, that just seemed odd, especially considering that I'm pretty sure we don't own any china and that, if we did, the kids would have already chipped or broken it._

_Dismissing Hallmark's recommendations left me on my own. I thought and I pondered. Nothing came to mind. I contemplated more and an idea arose. What you'll find in the box is something I believe you deserve far more than I do. While it is deeply meaningful to me on many levels and for various reasons, it really belongs to you. You've earned it. Your willingness to grasp my hand as we help each other heal (remember that dream you had?) is worthy of recognition._

_I love you more than words can express. Owen._

Curious and intrigued, Amelia slowly peeled the perfectly folded paper away from the box. The box itself had no identifying words or features, so she opened it to find something wrapped in tissue paper. After unfolding the paper, Owen's Purple Heart fell into her hand.


	23. Daytime Drinking

**_Chapter 23: Daytime Drinking_**

"Doesn't it feel weird?" Naomi queried. Her half-opened eyes gazed at the drifting clouds as she grasped Finley's hand. She and Finley were sprawled out on their backs on the grass. Having convinced Owen and Amelia to let them stay behind while the family attended Oliver's soccer game, the couple soaked in the sun beside the lakeshore sharing a six pack of Owen's beer.

Finley chortled, "Weird? Baby, I feel incredible." He sat up halfway, leaned over to his girlfriend and kissed her.

As she giggled and returned the kiss, she clarified, "Ok, not _weird_. I dunno… kind of like we're on a ride at the fair or on a boat."

Laughing, he admitted, "Yeah, a little." He grabbed their fourth bottle of beer and held it up, "Do you want more?"

"Sure," she agreed as she sat up and felt lightheaded. She balanced herself by putting her hands on the ground. "Woah…give me a second."

"What?" Finley curiously wondered as he leaned toward her and handed her the beer. She grabbed the drink and finished the last third of it. Then, falling into a fit of giggles, Naomi lowered herself to the ground. Her laughter was lighthearted and contagious, causing Finley to join in the mirth. The couple laughed until their sides hurt.

"Wh… Wh… Why are… we … even laughing?" Finley inquired.

With tears in her eyes, Naomi giggled, "I don't know." She scooted closer to Finley so she could rest her head against the side of his arm.

Finley glanced over at Naomi and rested his head against hers. He sighed and mused, "I could stay like this all summer." Their eyes met and the boisterous laughter resumed.

"Hey, guys, what's so funny?" Owen questioned from afar as he approached.

Under his breath, Finley mumbled, "Oh crap. Set the towels on top of the bottles."

Following Finley's recommendation, Naomi spread the towel out as if she were changing angles to catch better sun rays. She murmured through her smile, "You do the talking."

Finley offered one quick nod before faking a smile and greeting Owen, "Hey, Dad. I thought you guys were going to be gone until 4." Naomi, in an attempt to appear casual, stretched back out on the grass and closed her eyes.

Turning his chin toward his shoulder and pinching the bridge of his nose, Owen studied his son briefly before checking his watch. "It's 3:45pm., Fin."

"Wow, time flies!" Finley overacted.

Nodding his head slowly, Owen lowered his eyebrows and squinted. "Everything ok, you two?"

Grinning, Finley shrugged and lied, "Great. We're just kicking back." He sprawled out, put his hands under his neck and surveyed the clouds. Tilting his head, Finley invited, "Come join us, Dad."

"I'm good, Finley. Thanks," Owen responded thoughtfully. Internally, Owen's gut was screeching; something was amiss. "I'm… I'm heading back up to the house. Mom and Bronwyn sent me down here to tell you to come on up in a bit… they're baking cookies."

Naomi smiled and quipped, "Will do. Sounds great." Owen stared at them with his mouth slightly open, then grinned and headed back to the house.

"Holy shit, that was way too close," Finley whispered once Owen was out of earshot. "Let's figure out how to get the bottles up to the house without anyone knowing." Naomi blew out a puff of air and began giggling. "Baby, it's not funny," Finley warned.

"I know," she admitted as the giggling continued. "I'm laughing because you told your dad to come join us. What were you thinking?!"

"Fuck if I know," Finley chuckled. Naomi laughed hysterically in response.

Meanwhile, Owen returned to the kitchen with a perplexed countenance. He dipped a spoon into the bowl and ate a scoop of dough. Amelia spotted Owen's expression and commented, "That's your 'something's up' face. What's up?"

"Come over here," Owen encouraged as he walked to the large windows.

"Keep stirrin', Bronwyn. We're almost ready to put the dough on the cookie sheets," Amelia encouraged as she met Owen at the window.

"What do you see?" Owen inquired as he put his arm around Amelia's waist and pointed toward Finley and Naomi.

Amelia looked directly in Owen's eyes with one eyebrow higher than the other and opined, "Umm… Finley and Naomi."

"Do they seem… I don't know… normal?" Owen questioned.

"Owen," Amelia emphasized his name, "what's your concern?"

"Something was… off," Owen conveyed with concern. He cleared his throat and shrugged, "I'm probably imagining it. Never mind. Let's get those cookies going."

Amelia suggested, "Do you want me to go check it out?" As he approached Bronwyn, Owen nodded. She waddled to the kids with her eight-month-old baby bump. They were so focused upon one another that they didn't hear her approach.

"Ok, seriously, baby…c'mon… be serious," Finley was urging while smiling widely at the same time.

Naomi giggled and took a deep breath, "I promise. Serious. Yes." She held her lips together tightly, trying to contain her laughter.

"What about the bottles?" Finley wondered.

Amelia had a hunch they'd been drinking. Their voices were sing songy and Finley seemed as if he was trying to focus but could not do so. "What bottles?" Amelia asked in her best Mom voice.

Panic struck in the kids' faces. Their eyes widened and they both inhaled sharply. Neither met her eye directly and Finley promptly folded his arms, "Hey, Mom. How was Oliver's soccer game?"

"Fine," Amelia stated plainly. "You guys need help with some bottles?"

"Huh? No," Finley responded feigning a perplexed expression.

Amelia stared at both kids. "Look. At. Me. Both of you, look at me," she insisted firmly. Both kids peered up at her from the tops of their eyes as they lowered their chins. "What's going on?"

Continuing to attempt to convince his mom that everything was normal, Finley shrugged and explained with a slight slurring of words, "Mom. Really. We're… uh… everything's fine. Are the cookies almost done? Is that why you came down here?"

"Naomi Grace," Amelia uttered sharply, "what's going on? Fess up." Naomi's gaze wandered around the area as she grinned uncomfortably and shrugged lightly. Folding her arms, Amelia drew in a breath, "Here's the deal, guys. I am certain you're both hiding something. We can go back and forth all day, but I'm only going to become angrier with each exchange."

Finley smirked and poured on his best charm, "Mom, really…"

Holding her hands in front of her body, Amelia piped up, "Bottles? I'm guessing the bottles don't belong to the twins… maybe bottles belonging to your dad, Finley James?"

Naomi pursed her lips and looked down at the grass. She mumbled, "Just tell her, Fin."

"No big deal, Mom. We just had a couple beers while everyone was at the game," Finley shrugged with a smile meant to downplay the situation.

"There we go…" Amelia commented flatly. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head slowly. Eventually, after a lengthy pause, Amelia ordered, "Naomi, why don't you head up to the guest room? Fin – grab the bottles, put them in the recycling, take the towels to the washer and head to your bedroom. Dad or I will be up later."

As Naomi stood unsteadily, she sputtered, "Dr. Shepherd-Hunt, I'm very sorry. What we did was…"

Amelia interrupted with her hand in the air, "Naomi Grace, I love you like one of my own, but I can't talk to you right now. Go upstairs please." Naomi, shuffling her feet, walked toward the house.

Finley bent down to gather the bottles in a towel. Tottering, Finley attempted to stand back up. He looked up at his mom whose lips were pursed tightly. With a tightened jaw and lowered brows, she bore her eyes into Finley. He'd never seen her so intense. Her body seemed like a lid on a pot about to over boil – the fury she was holding inside was evident.

"Mom…" Finley began with hesitation. He grinned in an attempt to soften her mood.

"How many bottles, Finley? How many do you have there?" Amelia asked curtly.

Finley gulped and reported, "Six. Well, we didn't open one, so five empties and one unopened."

"Hmm…" Amelia hummed.

"Mom?" Finley began to plead.

"Go…go to the house, now," Amelia growled.

"I'm going," Finley assured her softly.

* * *

Owen, Oliver and Bronwyn were laughing in the kitchen as they continued the cookie baking adventure. Naomi came in and caught Owen's eye. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, wondering what had transpired. Meekly, Naomi simply whispered, "Excuse me, Dr. Hunt," and proceeded up the stairs.

"What's up with Naomi?" Oliver wondered aloud. "She looks kinda scared and kinda sad all at once."

"Mommy's been outside with them. Maybe Naomi gotted in trouble," Bronwyn weighed in.

"Let's not worry about Finley and Naomi right now, guys. Let's get these cookies in the oven," Owen suggested.

Amelia came in next. Immediately noting the tension on her face, Owen stepped away from Oliver and Bronwyn and approached his wife. He guessed, "Something _was _up, wasn't it?"

"I need to sit down," Amelia shared with a grimace as she headed to the couch.

"Ollie, can you bring your mom some water, please?" Owen requested. Owen followed Amelia to the couch and put his arm around her shoulders.

Oliver brought a large glass of water to Amelia and studied her, "Are you ok, Mommy?"

With a smirk, Amelia twisted her arm around Oliver and drew him toward her for a hug, "I'm fine, buddy. Thanks for the water."

"You look super mad and frustrated," Oliver observed.

Amelia looked up at Oliver and suggested, "Ollie, I am mad, but I need to talk to Dad about it right now. Can you go help Bronwyn?" Oliver nodded, smirked and ran toward the kitchen. Much to Oliver and Bronwyn's dismay, Amelia and Owen mumbled softly and could not be overheard. She was giving Owen a summary of the situation when the door between the garage and inside hallway opened.

Finley stepped inside and Bronwyn spotted him immediately. She whispered, "Finley, are you in trouble?"

With a sideways smile, Finley nodded dramatically and whispered back, "Yeah. Big trouble."

"What'd you do?" Oliver wondered.

Finley shook his head and pointed upstairs, "I gotta go."

"Finley James!" Amelia called out with an edge in her voice.

"Yeah?" Finley responded as he froze in his steps.

"Let him go upstairs, Mia," Owen advised softly so only he and Amelia could hear. "I'll talk to him later."

"I want him to tell you what he was doing," Amelia insisted in a low volume.

Owen breathed deeply and commanded benevolently, "C'mon over here for a second."

Embarrassed that his siblings were watching with deep curiosity, Finley approached his parents. Owen patted the cushion next to him and Finley sat down. Quietly, Owen asked, "Give me the bullet, Finley. One sentence."

"Naomi and I had a few beers while you were gone," Finley admitted as he looked directly at Owen.

Nodding his head slowly, Owen sighed, "Not a great choice, huh?"

"No," Finley answered as he hung his head low.

"Go to your room. We'll be up later," Owen ordered.

"Dad, I'm really sorry and Nai is too," Finley added.

"I know," Owen responded as he stared directly at his son.

* * *

Clarisse, Naomi's mom, was originally planning to pick her daughter up after dinner. When Owen called and shared the news, Clarisse offered to come over immediately. However, as she and Owen discussed the situation, Owen put forth an idea. He proposed that both kids and all three parents could gather together for a conversation. The consequences both would face would be similar, and meeting as a group would show the kids that their parents were a united front. Amelia joined the conversation on another line and the three sketched out a basic outline. They decided Clarisse would come over for dinner and that the group would chat after that. Until then, Clarisse had no problem with Naomi stewing in the guest room.

After the phone call, Owen went upstairs. He knocked on the guest room door and waited for Naomi to respond. With a serious expression that conveyed disappointment more than anger, Owen entered the room and walked over to the window where Naomi was standing. He stood next to her and joined her in watching the water as he shared, "I like to stare out there when I have something on my mind."

"It's pretty," Naomi weakly replied.

Owen put his hand on Naomi's shoulder, "I came up to let you know that your mom is coming over for dinner in about an hour. After we eat, the five of us will sit down and talk about this afternoon."

"Thanks for letting me know," the scared teen responded softly as she continued taking in the view.

His heart sunk even though he was disappointed. Empathetically, Owen patted Naomi's shoulder before suggesting, "Why don't you sit tight in here. I'll send someone to come get you when dinner's ready."

Naomi nodded and, with trembling lips, regarded Owen, "Thanks for being so nice about all this."

With sagging shoulders, Owen inquired, "Do you need a hug?"

Leaning immediately into Owen's chest, Naomi wrapped her arms around him and began crying. He stroked the back of her head and shhh'd her. "I'm not going to lie, Naomi. You and Finley screwed up and are going to face some serious consequences, but all three of us love you two. You know that, right?"

Naomi sniffled and wiped away her tears. She pulled away as she nodded, "Yeah. Thanks." She wrapped her arms tightly in front of herself and turned back toward the water. Owen pursed his lips and patted Naomi's shoulder before stepping out.

Heading down the hall to talk to Finley, Owen sighed as he considered that parenthood was not always joyous and wonderful. He knocked on Finley's door, "Hey…"

"Come in, Dad," Finley said without emotion. When Owen walked in, Finley was lying on his bed and repeatedly bouncing a Nerf ball against the ceiling.

"Clarisse is coming over for dinner and all of us will talk after we eat," Owen disclosed as he popped his hands into his pockets.

Not looking at Owen, Finley responded flatly, "Ok. Did someone tell Nai so she's not just sitting in there?"

"I just spoke with her. I'll send one of the kids up to get you when dinner's ready," Owen sighed.

Finley continued to avoid eye contact and muttered, "Can't wait."

* * *

Dinner was a mixture of awkward and uncomfortable as the older kids ate silently and the parents attempted small talk. Bronwyn and Oliver held up the table conversation for the whole while the twins offered comic relief and flirted with Clarisse. After the meal came to a close, the parents and older kids sat at a round table on the patio. Oliver and Bronwyn played with the twins in the playroom, really wishing they could know what was being discussed outside.

Clarisse began the conversation, "Let's cut to the chase, guys. You two stayed behind when everyone went to the soccer game. Dr. Hunt and Dr. Shepherd-Hunt trusted that you could be left alone, and you betrayed that trust by drinking nearly a six pack of beer. To say we're disappointed is an understatement."

Glancing at Amelia and then at Clarisse, Owen leaned his lower arms on the table, "The three of us have talked about where to go from here. You're both going to have the same consequences. We want to be clear from the beginning that we have a zero-tolerance policy on drinking. All electronics need to be turned over – phones, iPods, gaming consoles, everything – and you're grounded for three weeks. Unless you're helping out with extra chores, attending practice, eating or using the bathroom, you'll hang out in your bedroom."

Naomi's eyes widened in shock. She seldom broke rules or upset her mom, so such extreme consequences felt like being sent to prison. The only other time she'd been grounded was when she argued about cleaning the kitchen and refused to do it. For that, she had to come right home after school for two days. Finley sighed heavily and looked up at the sky as he grasped Naomi's hand under the table. More than anything, he was pissed at his unreasonable and overly reactive parents.

Amelia moved her chair between the kids and sat down. She began calmly, "I'm sure you're both pretty done at this point. Maybe you're furious or sad or both, but I need you to listen to my story. Can you turn your chairs so we're making our own circle of three?"

The kids scooted their chairs without a word. Amelia reached out to hold each of their hands as she resumed, "There are parts of my past that I'm not proud of and I want to share some of that story with you. When I was about your age, I started drinking. It started out pretty low key – a couple beers, a couple glasses of wine, maybe a little bit of vodka in a big glass of orange juice. It made me feel happy and relaxed – I was just having a drink or two, no big deal." With a reluctant and regretful chuckle, Amelia added, "Pretty soon, I was pouring a third of a handle down my throat or drinking shot after shot of whatever I could get my hands on." Amelia paused to let that much sink in.

She looked directly at Finley and Naomi until they each met her gaze, then she continued, "Pretty soon, alcohol wasn't enough. Drinking until I passed out or blacked out wasn't enough. But, that was no big deal, right? Just a little pot or just one of my mom's pain pills. Nothing big, nothing to worry about. It wasn't like I was using around the clock or taking huge amounts of pills…yet. And I did a pretty efficient job of hiding it."

"By the time I was 18, I had stolen prescription pads and forged my mom's signature so I could get pills. I was damn lucky I didn't die and that I was never arrested. I was high all the time and I was a complete mess. I was destroying myself and Uncle Derek and Grams…they saved my life by being hard asses, by insisting I go to treatment, by being willing to be the bad guys. I'm an addict and they made me face it."

"Now it's my turn to be the hard ass. I'm going to do everything I can to keep both of you from even taking step two on the same path. I'll harass you and I'll watch you like a hawk. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you from drinking and taking drugs. I'll come down hard with tough consequences because I love you both. You are amazing, intelligent, talented people who don't need to follow my crappy path."

"We're not just angry because you're kids and we're parents. Each in our own way, we've seen what can happen when drinking gets out of hand. You're both 13. You've got eight years until drinking is legal. Until then, like Dad said, all three of us have a zero-tolerance policy. Do either of you have any questions or want to say anything?" Amelia concluded.

"I apologize," Naomi sputtered. "We knew better. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Finley echoed. "We just wanted to try it. We figured we were safe trying it here at home."

All three parents stared blankly in response. Clarisse broke the tension, "Naomi, let's head home. Do you have a purse or a bag or anything you need to grab?"

Barely audible, Naomi answered, "Yeah."

"Go get it," her mother urged calmly. "Owen, Amelia, thanks so much for dinner and for having Naomi over today. I'm sure we'll be in touch." Clarisse hugged Amelia, whispering in her ear, "I'll call you later." Owen patted Clarisse's back and offered a quick hug.

"Finley?" Clarisse put forth. "I love you, hon." Not interested in hugging her or interacting with any parent, Finley at least glanced upward and smirked.

"Finley," Owen stated firmly. He looked at him with expectant eyebrows and a flat stare.

Standing up, Finley lamely hugged Clarisse, "Sorry."

Naomi came down with her purse and a bag. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, then walked over to the group. "Bye," she offered meekly as she hugged Amelia and Owen. She turned to Finley and hugged him tightly, whispering, "We'll figure out a way to talk, k?"

He nodded subtly, "Take care, Nai."

Once Naomi and Clarisse walked through the front door, Finley turned and headed toward the stairs.

"Finley?" Amelia beckoned insistently. He turned and looked at her expectantly. "Get the kitchen cleaned up before heading upstairs." Ready to scream and rant, Finley took a deep breath and walked over to the kitchen with his jaw firmly set.

Owen whispered in Amelia's ear, "I know you probably want to throttle him, but why don't you give him some space? You two need to go to separate corners."

"Yeah, I'll go check on the littles," Amelia agreed.

Without a word, Owen joined Finley in the kitchen and helped him clean it. Having such a thoughtful and calm Dad made it really difficult for Finley to hate him.


	24. Being Grounded Is No Fun

**_Chapter 24: Being Grounded Is No Fun_**

_Monday, June 12_

"Finley, time to wake up," Amelia barked at 8:00am on the first non-school weekday of the summer.

Groaning, Finley threw a pillow toward the door and grumbled, "There's no school. It's summer."

"Yep. I let you sleep in for an hour. Besides, you're grounded. Wake up. I've got a list waiting for you. Meet me downstairs," Amelia stated firmly as she closed the door.

"_I hate you,_" Finley thought to himself. "_You total, complete bitch._" He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

A couple minutes later, Finley heard a knock on his door and snapped, "Geez…Give me a second."

"It's Dad," Owen clarified.

"Come in," Finley sighed. When Owen opened the door, Finley started in, "What is with her?! It's like she's spending every free moment of her life figuring out how to make me suffer."

Owen grinned, "It's a good thing she's so busy, then. Busy equals fewer free moments plotting against you."

"Dad, c'mon!" Finley exclaimed, "Saturday, she flipped out about the kitchen. Now, it's the first day of summer and she woke me up at 8 to tell me she has a list waiting for me. This is gonna be a super fun three weeks."

"And how'd you get in this mess?" Owen inquired as he grimaced.

"I know, I know…but is it going to be like this _every _day?" Finley moaned.

"Finley!" Amelia called up impatiently from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm talking to him, Mia," Owen explained.

"Oh…ok then," Amelia responded.

Owen smirked at his son and advised, "I have quite a bit of experience dealing with her when her mind is set on something, Finley. My advice? Speak as little as possible, don't cop an attitude, and calmly do what she asks. Your life will unfold much more smoothly that way." Owen stepped out to finish getting ready for work. For his part, Finley was rolling his eyes and trying not to growl out loud.

Finley dressed and lumbered down the stairs. When he saw Amelia, he inquired as evenly as possible, "You said something about a list, Mom?"

"Eat breakfast, then the list," Amelia declared.

Finley took Amelia's regular seat at the table and ate cereal as he played with the twins. Gwen, her face covered in oatmeal and pureed fruit, insisted on wanting to kiss him when he sat down. He laughed, wiped off her face and let her kiss his cheek. Ella, not wanting to be ignored, threw her spoon at her brother and hit his temple. "Ouch! Ella. Do not throw spoons," Finley barked. From the kitchen, Amelia observed but said nothing.

Ella lowered her brows and pumped her hand open and closed, wanting her spoon returned, "Mine."

"No, you threw it, you lost it," Finley offered with frustration.

"Mine!" Ella screamed.

"Shut up, Ella. Nobody wants to hear it," Finley grumbled. Ella continued her demand.

"Finley James! Do not speak that way to your sister," Amelia ordered as she cleared her throat.

"But it's ok for her to screech and be a brat?" Finley argued. Amelia folded her arms and stared at her son. He continued, "Can I eat breakfast without having spoons thrown at my face or is that too much to ask?"

Amelia looked up at the ceiling, repeating in her head, _You're the grown up here, Amelia. You're the grown up. _She walked over to Ella and bent down in front of her. "Ella, Finley's right. You threw the spoon; you don't get it back. You need to tell your brother you're sorry. Throwing spoons isn't nice."

"No. Mine," Ella screamed at her mama.

"Ella Ray, you need to do what Mommy asks you to do. One…" Amelia began. She and Owen had just started using time outs with the twins.

Ella protested in response, yelling, "Two! Fee!"

With a sigh, Amelia began to remove the tray from highchair, "Finley, will you please clean up your sister and have her sit on the bottom stair?" Without comment, Finley did as Amelia asked.

Predictably, Ella refused to stay seated. Amelia asked Finley to keep putting her back on the stair without speaking with her. Owen came scurrying down in the midst of the drama. "What's up?" he asked as he tied his tie.

Amelia explained and Owen suggested that Finley return to his breakfast. Not thinking about admonishing Amelia in front of Finley, Owen fumed, "You can't expect her to be parented by the kids, Mia. You're the one who has to do this." He turned to Ella and looked at her eye-to-eye. "Ella Ray," Owen began with a firm, low voice, "Sit down." To Amelia's ongoing frustration, Ella listened to Owen and complied as she burst into tears. After a minute, Owen leaned down and declared his expectations, "Ella, tell Finley you are sorry for throwing the spoon and tell Mama sorry for not listening." Again, Ella complied.

"I gotta go," Owen grimaced, "I'm late." He put an arm around Amelia and kissed her, then leaned down and kissed her baby bump. "Lynne's coming today?"

"Yeah, at 9," Amelia responded.

Owen grinned and offered, "Want me to call you in so you can come to work and relax?"

* * *

Later that same day, Naomi and Clarisse had their own moments of tension. "Did you get everything on the list completed?" Clarisse asked Naomi. Clarisse had just arrived home from work. Whereas Finley had constant supervision, Naomi was alone during the day. Clarisse had to trust that Naomi was following the ground rules.

"Yes," Naomi responded. "If I do something extra, can I call Finley? Just for like five minutes?"

"We've been over this, Nai. No," Clarisse remarked.

"Why not?" Naomi whined. "Mom…I'm not used to being away from him or not talking to him for so long."

"I know," Clarisse responded as she sorted the mail. "Maybe you'll remember that when you have another opportunity to drink, huh?"

Naomi growled and stomped off to her room.

* * *

_Friday, June 16_

After eating some lunch, Naomi decided to try out her latest idea. Using the landline, she called Oliver hoping she could connect with Finley. After all, there was no way Clarisse would know that the home phone had been used.

"Hello?" Oliver stated as he answered his phone.

"Oliver, don't say my name out loud. It's Naomi," Naomi advised.

"Hey, how are you?" Oliver asked with nonchalance.

Naomi smiled and thought, _So far, so good_. "I'm good, buddy. But, boy, do I miss you! What are you doing right now?"

"I'm up in my room. I came up to change clothes 'cause I was playing with the dogs and got all muddy," Oliver explained.

"Sounds like fun. Hey, Oliver, can you help Finley and me out? I need to tell him something really quick. Do you think you can sneak into his room and hand him your phone?" Naomi dared to request.

Oliver moved his lips to the side as he pondered, "Aren't you guys grounded from phones?"

"No – we just had to turn in _our own _phones," Naomi split hairs. "Nobody said anything about no phone calls at all."

"Ok, just a sec," Oliver assured her.

He walked into Finley's room and Finley immediately barked, "Get the hell out of here, Oliver. Leave me alone."

Oliver smirked and held his phone in the air, whispering, "It's Naomi. Wanna talk to her or do you still want me to leave?"

"Seriously?" Finley asked as he grasped the phone. His tone of voice softened, and he said hello to his girlfriend. "Baby, I miss you so much."

"Finley, you wouldn't believe what my mom's got me doing. I've been cleaning out closets and vacuuming out her car and all sorts of stupid stuff," Naomi whined.

"Me too, only I keep getting stuck with Ella and her crappy attitude. It sucks," Finley shared.

Oliver, listening to Finley's side of the conversation, whispered, "You're not 'sposed to say crap or suck." Finley lowered his brows and pointed at the phone. Oliver kicked back in Finley's beanbag chair knowing Finley wouldn't kick him out.

"How's summer soccer?" Naomi asked.

"I'm so glad they didn't take that away. It's like the only time I am freed from this prison," Finley jested. "It's going great. We have an excellent team. Our first game is on July 1st. Can you come?"

"I hope so. That's the end of my imprisonment," Naomi giggled.

Finley unveiled his lovey-dovey side in front of his brother as he stated, "I know I'll play better if you're there." Oliver started kissing the air and fluttering his eyes, whispering, "Oh, Baby…I love you, Baby." Knowing that his phone was their lifeline, Oliver relished being able to tease his brother without consequence.

"Awww…Finley! I miss your sweet words," she cooed. "I miss holding your hand and laughing with you, too."

"And, you know…" Finley added.

Naomi laughed, "Is Oliver right there?"

"Uh huh," Finley shared.

"So you meant you miss kissing?" Naomi flirted.

"Uh huh," Romeo affirmed.

Naomi sighed and giggled, "Me too."

"Nai…I gotta go," Finley whispered. "I hear my mom in the hall with the twins. Call again ok?"

Finley hung up and Naomi sighed with joy. Just hearing his voice gave her encouragement. Full of dreamy feels, Naomi sat on the couch smiling and replaying the conversation in her head.

Meanwhile, at the Shepherd-Hunt home, Finley told Oliver, "Dude, you're awesome. Thanks for letting me talk to her. If you don't tell anyone, I'll pay you $2 every time you let us talk."

Oliver, the savvy salesman, grinned mischievously and offered, "Seventy-five cents a minute."

Groaning internally, Finley agreed and the two shook on the deal. "Now how are you going to explain being in here? Mom's in the nursery next door and will probably come harass me once the babies are napping."

"I'm 'sposed to be changing my shirt. I could tell her I think my favorite blue shirt ended up in your laundry 'cause I can't find it in my room," Oliver beamed with pride at what he predicted would be a successful cover.

Finley gave a thumbs up and stretched out on his bed to resume throwing and catching his Nerf ball. He encouraged quietly, "Go ahead and go through my shirts, then."

A minute later, Amelia knocked on the door and walked in, "Finley, I just put the twins down for a nap. Will you listen fo…Oliver, you shouldn't be in here."

"I'm looking for my blue shirt. I can't find it in my room. Do you think Lynne put it in here on accident?" Oliver explained without looking at his mom. When push came to shove, he couldn't look at Amelia and lie.

"Hmmm…maybe. Are you looking for the one with the light blue pocket on the chest?" Amelia asked inquisitively.

"Yeah," Oliver nodded, thankful for Amelia's suggestion to help perpetuate his story.

Amelia made a duck face and added, "I think, Mr. Oliver, that shirt might be in the laundry room."

* * *

_Evening of Wednesday, June 21_

As the couple sat on a beach blanket and appreciated the evening sun, Amelia squirmed and shuffled in an attempt to sit comfortably. Except for Finley, the family was together, and the kids were playing on the small beach along the lake shore.

"Did you think you'd make it this close to full term?" Owen asked softly as he brushed a piece of Amelia's hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek.

Amelia huffed, "No. I truly did not. What I find amazing is how big I am with one baby at this stage of the game. I know I measured bigger with the girls, but I _feel _bigger with the little man. Oh! There he goes… my left side. Feel him?" Amelia had grabbed Owen's hand and placed it softly above the spot where the baby was kicking.

Chuckling, Owen rested his head on her enormous bump and ventured, "Have you heard that your brothers like soccer, little man? That's a power kick." Owen followed the baby's movements with his hand, ultimately resting his head against Amelia's baby bump.

Amelia grinned with serenity, "I really, really love you, Owen."

Owen glanced up while his head remained on Amelia's tummy. He stared silently for a few seconds before beaming, "I really love you too, Mia." Caressing her neck, Owen hummed with contentment and continued, "And you are an amazing wife, an incredible mother, and a kick ass surgeon."

"You're a charmer," Amelia grinned.

Displaying a playful frown, Owen suggested, "Nah…a truth teller."

Amelia reached over and brushed her thumb along Owen's jaw line as she curled the rest of her hand under his chin. She mused, "Sometimes I am blown away with wonder. I'll stop and contemplate our two plus years together. We've become parents, bought this enormous dream house _on the lake_, adopted three kids, lived through preemies and all the scariness that pregnancy brought, dealt with a deployment, and, somehow, managed to continue being surgeons in the midst of all that. It's a little crazy, isn't it?"

"There are days when I'm driving to work and I pull over so I can take it all in – in a good way, with wonder. I stop and I'm astounded that you are in my life…that you're my wife and we have our marriage and share our lives," Owen uttered with softened eyes.

Slow and tiny tears slipped from Amelia's eyes. Owen noticed and grinned as he reached out to catch them, whispering, "What is it, Mia?"

"Pregnancy hormones," she laughed and sniffled, "and a heart bursting with love."

* * *

_Wednesday, June 28_

While the twins napped, Amelia and Bronwyn were sitting at the dining room table playing Rummy. Thirsty, Amelia begged, "Bronwyn, would you please get your very pregnant Mama a glass of water?"

Standing up as if Amelia had requested that Bronwyn run a marathon, Bronwyn sighed with exasperation, "Wwwwwwhhhhhheennnnnnnn are you going to have the bbbbaaaaabbbbyyyyy? Mommy…you have been pregnant forevvvvveeerrrrrrr." She poured the water and brought the glass to Amelia.

Amelia chuckled and retorted, "You should try carrying the baby around in your tummy 24/7. I'm whining as much as you are. My back hurts, I can't sleep, and I'm uncomfortable _all _the time. As soon as Aunt Addie gets here, then we'll figure out when an OR is available and schedule Little Man's birthdate." Amelia winked, "Luckily, we know the guy who has some say about who gets to use the operating rooms."

"Oh, Mama, are you being all 'mantic again? "Cause you and Daddy smoochy face too much," Bronwyn grinned with a glint in her eye.

"Yep, I am. I kind of like being 'mantic with your daddy. He's _cute _and funny, he has nice muscles and a great smile…oh! And those beautiful blue eyes_,_" Amelia purred with the intention of throwing Bronwyn into a dither.

"Ewww…enough, Mama. He's not cute. He's Daddy," Bronwyn declared as she put down all her cards to win the game and placed her hands over her ears to block out the sweetheart chatter.

Finley came down the stairs and Amelia raised an eyebrow, "Can I help you, Finley?"

"I'm trying to find my shin guards. Have you seen them?" he asked plainly.

"No, but practice isn't for another three hours and you are… you are not where you should be," Amelia snipped.

"Seriously? Mom, come on. This whole nightmare is almost over anyway and it's not like I came down here and turned on the X-Box. Give me a flippin' break," Finley snapped.

"Finley, I don't care if it's Day One or Day Twenty. You're still grounded," Amelia reminded her son.

"Mom, you're being ridiculous. Back off already," Finley argued.

Amelia conveyed the 'you've now crossed the line' Mom stare, "Finley, go back to your room."

The garage door sounded and within a minute, Owen came bounding through the door. As he'd hoped, he was able to come home for lunch. Finley remained downstairs and continued searching for his equipment. Owen happily sang, "Hi, everyone." He walked over to Amelia and kissed her gently on the lips for half a minute. Bronwyn shook her head slowly and slapped her hands in front of her eyes. Lips still attached to his wife, Owen looked over at Bronwyn before standing back up and laughing, "What's up, Bronwyn?" As he awaited a reply, he headed to the fridge and began rummaging for something to eat.

"Umm…Dada, you and Mama… I was just telling her. You guys kiss too much," Bronwyn assessed with certainty. Her face looked as if she'd just bit into a lime.

"Oh yeah?" Owen playfully responded as he ran over to Amelia. He supported her back and leaned her over the side of the chair as he kissed her passionately. Amelia giggled as they kissed.

"Ewww," Bronwyn declared.

"Agreed," Finley grumbled from the other side of the room.

Owen helped Amelia sit back up and turned to Finley, "Hey, bud. I didn't see you when I came in."

"Hi," Finley mumbled.

Amelia placed her hand on Owen's forearm and remarked, "He's supposed to be in his room, but he's down here arguing with me and searching for soccer gear instead."

"Oh," Owen shrugged as he returned to the fridge.

Shooting her husband, a look, Amelia prodded, "That's not ok, is it, Owen?"

Licking some stray mustard off his finger as he prepared a sandwich, Owen pushed his eyebrows together in confusion, "Huh?"

"He's still grounded…" Amelia began, hoping to bring Owen on board.

"Oh, yeah. Well he has practice today, doesn't he? If he has practice, he'll need all his gear, right?" Owen shrugged as he bit into his lunch. Finley, his back to his parents, beamed. Hearing his dad unknowingly disagree with his uber-strict mother made him want to jump on the counter and do a celebratory dance.

Owen rummaged around in the cabinet and found some chips. After pouring himself some water, he carried his meal over to the table and sat in his spot. Noting Amelia's frown, he asked, "What's up? Did you want a sandwich too? I can make you one."

"I already ate," Amelia grumbled.

Owen lowered his brows in confusion and peered at his wife out of the corner of his eyes. "Did I… umm, do something or say something to upset you, Mia?"

Clearing her throat, Bronwyn explained, "Finley and Mama, they were fighting before you cameded in. Then you didn't get mad like Mama did about Finley coming downstairs."

"Oh," Owen nodded slowly. "Mia, I'm sorry. I didn't know I wasn't supporting you. I apologize."

Amelia curled her lip toward Owen then moved her gaze to Finley, "Finley, whether you've found it or not, back to your room please."

"They've gotta be here somewhere. I'm gonna check the car, then I'll go back upstairs," Finley sighed as he walked out to the garage.

"Owen, will you help me out here? Just before you came in, he was yelling and arguing. He told me to back off and to give him a flippin' break. His sass and insistence are out of line," Amelia growled.

Bronwyn added, "And, Mama, he also saided that you were duh-rick-you-lus. That wasn't nice."

"Can I have one meal… just _one _meal where I don't have to referee some petty disagreement? Hell, Amelia, that's why I came home. I skipped the hospital cafeteria so I didn't have to babysit people who should be able to navigate their relationships without a mediator," Owen proclaimed.

Standing up, Owen leaned over and kissed Bronwyn's forehead, "Bye, Red. Daddy needs to get back to work." Owen walked over to the kitchen, wrapped up his sandwich and threw some chips in a container. "I'll pick him up at the end of practice like we talked about, Mia. See you after that."

When he dashed into the garage, Owen summoned Finley, "Hey, Fin. Come over here."

"Yeah, Dad?" Finley inquired politely. He had found his shin guards in the Enclave and was holding them in his hands.

"Were you arguing with Mom before I got here?" Owen asked with obvious frustration.

"I dunno. Kinda… yeah, I guess so. _We_ were arguing with each other," Finley reported without drama.

"Fair enough," Owen acknowledged. "Regardless, go in there and apologize. Tell your mom you were disrespectful…"

"Dad! Come…on!" Finley protested. "She was all uptight and in my face."

Owen lowered his chin and looked at his son, "But who's in charge? Go do it or I'm tacking on another week. I'm sick of the two of you and the non-stop fighting. Go make nice then go back to your room and stay there until it's time to leave for practice. I'll pick you up at the field after practice is over."

Finley stared at Owen and replied reluctantly, "Fine."

"I found them," Finley shared pleasantly as he re-entered the house. "Hey, Mom…look, I'm sor…"

"Finley, I told you to go to your room, not into the garage. I'm so frustrated with your sass and the way you speak to me when Dad's not around," Amelia snapped. Bronwyn moved her head back and forth as she watched the tennis match unfold.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I was way out of line," Finley offered calmly.

Amelia growled, "Sorry is not enough, Finley. I'm extending the grounding until Monday."

"Are you serious?" Finley protested.

"Want to make it longer?" Amelia threatened.

"No," Finley responded flatly as he stared directly into Amelia's eyes.

Amelia took a deep breath and suggested, "Then don't say another word and go to your room."

As he huffed up the stairs, Finley held himself back from breaking the shin guards in half.

* * *

_Friday, June 30_

"Why didn't you tell me, Mia?" Owen grumbled. He had mentioned that he was going to take Finley to the airport with him to go pick up Addison, Jake and Henry. Then Amelia shared that Finley was grounded through Monday.

"Baby brain," she grimaced. "Sorry."

"So now we have to put up with the stewing and the tension while we have company? Way to think things through, Mia," Owen huffed.

"Woah, your words rival Finley's. Since when did I become the Wicked Witch of the West?" Amelia sighed.

Owen stood up and approached his wife, putting his hands on her shoulders as he faced her, "I'm sorry. I'm just done with the grounding. I'm tired of the tension. Everything feels like it's on high alert at all times." He leaned in and kissed Amelia's lips as he gently grasped her face with both hands before apologizing again. "I'm sorry, Mia. I shouldn't be such an ass."

Amelia copped a sly grin and teased, "You know, you're standing in the perfect position for me to retaliate by kneeing you in the…"

"Hey now!" Owen laughed anxiously as he backed up and sat on the bed. "Come sit next to me and retaliate with make-up sex instead," he flirted.

"How long until their plane lands?" Amelia inquired as she pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra.

"Long enough. We have time," Owen assured her. He threw off his shoes and hurried out of his pants with the excitement level of a kid at Christmas.

Sliding down onto the floor and kneeling, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and slipped between her legs. Her pregnancy-sized breasts beckoned his hands, and he groped his way up from her hips to her chest. Amelia reached up and stroked his cheek as she smiled at him. Eventually, her hands slid down and grasped his strong forearms. He closed his eyes and savored the moment.


	25. Fourth of July

**_Chapter 25: Fourth of July_**

_July 4th_

"Amelia, I still can't believe you two wanted to host the party. You're…well…very pregnant," Meredith shared lovingly with a soft giggle as she finished making a green salad.

Continuing to slice fruit, Amelia offered a sideways smirk, "I'm a blowfish. A whale. A manatee. An elephant… something very, very large."

Coming up from behind, Derek placed his arm around his sister and kissed her cheek, "You're adorable. But I've gotta ask, how do you waddle around like that and keep the baby in? Saying he's dropped is… well, an understatement." Derek giggled with pride as he pushed his sister's buttons.

"I suggest you leave my presence, dear brother. Women at the end of their pregnancies are prone to violence when their brothers pretend to say something loving that is actually offensive," Amelia quipped as she raised one eyebrow and pushed Derek's upper arm. "Haven't you fully trained him yet, Meredith?"

"He's untrainable," Meredith smirked, "but so damn adorable."

"Ah, that's my girl," Derek chuckled as he leaned down and kissed his wife. "I love you."

Bronwyn, with her red and white striped tank top and navy-blue shorts, came running in and put her hands-on Amelia's enormous bump, "Hi baby brother. Guess what? Our daddy just told me we could go swimming?!" Bron looked up at Amelia and beamed, "Did you hear that too, Mama? Daddy's gonna swim with us!"

"Then run up and get your swimsuit on, silly. I'll come watch in a bit," Amelia smiled as she stroked Bronwyn's head. "Keep your hair in that ponytail or it'll tangle!"

"I know, I know, I know, Mama," Bronwyn replied as she headed upstairs.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Oliver ran in at full speed with his swim trunks and flip flops on.

"Oliver! Oliver! Oliver!" Amelia kidded in response.

"Dad, Dr. Reilly, Dr. Karev and Dr. Avery are all swimming and said us kids could swim too! Henry's already out there with his dad." Oliver celebrated.

"Then, go! Swim. Have fun!" Amelia laughed.

"Ok, I'll admit it, Amelia, your McMansion is the perfect place for a party on a 90-degree day," Addison admitted with a grin as she walked inside from the patio.

"Oh, look at that," Amelia mused as she gazed out the window.

Meredith looked up, "Mmmm, Wilson?"

"That adorably young and tiny body wearing a bikini," Addie grumbled.

"Makes you want to put her on scut for 100 years, doesn't it?" Meredith suggested.

Amelia shook her head, "She's not even half of me. And look at Karev slobbering over her from afar."

Laughing, Addison nodded, "Alex is practiced at slobbering over women. He's not going to be able to get out of the water for hours…unless he wants to be…well, obvious."

"Ha! Good!" Amelia celebrated as she grabbed the giant bowl of fruit and began to carry it outside.

"Oh no, you don't!" April insisted as she met Amelia at the door. "I've got it." Amelia tried to look gracious as she continued to walk outside and head toward Finley and Naomi. They were sitting on the tiny beach at the edge of the water. Their starry eyes sparkled in the sunshine as they leaned on their extended arms. Finley's arm was placed between Naomi's arms as their shoulders rubbed against one another. The newly reunited couple couldn't keep themselves away from one another after over three weeks apart.

"Are you guys having fun?" Amelia asked.

"Hey, Mom. Yeah, it's a great day, huh? It's so hot and sunny," Finley described with his new, man sounding voice. After a few months of squeaks and cracks, Finley now sounded more like a bass than a soprano.

"It's wonderful out here. Hey, would you go check on the twins? I'm pretty sure they're going to be waking up soon and I thought I'd let Dad take them for a little swim," Amelia smiled.

Both Naomi and Finley stood up as Finley pointed out, "They're gonna freak if someone puts them in the lake – that water is cold."

"He won't put them all the way in. Just their feet so they can splash around," Amelia clarified. Ten feet away from the shore, Owen caught Amelia's eye and nodded his head before blowing a kiss. Amelia's mouth curved into a smile in response. As she headed back inside, she put her hand on her back and tried to stretch. The baby was so big, and his feet seemed to get stuck in her ribs far too often. Between the baby's stuck feet and her backaches, she was more than ready to no longer be pregnant.

Callie and Sofia walked around to the back of the house and greeted everyone as they arrived. Bronwyn and Zola screamed with high-pitched joy when they saw their playmate. The trio of trouble began chasing each other and giggling.

Alex spotted his colleague and called out, "Hey, Torres, get your ass out here!"

"Her what, Alex?" Jo snipped with a warning look. "There are kids here, dear."

"Right, sorry everybody. Torres, get your bum out here," Alex re-attempted his command.

Callie laughed, "No matter what you call it, I'm not getting in that cold water, Karev." Callie walked over to Amelia and gently put her hand on Amelia's bump, "How are you? Just miserably, hugely pregnant?"

Amelia grinned, "A little. I'm not bad. Actually…who am I kidding? Yes, I'm uncomfortable and gigantic." She stretched her back again because the baby's foot continued to bother her. Addie, with narrowed eyes, studied Amelia's actions from afar.

"And how's my favorite patient? Looks like he's having a blast out in the water," Callie smiled.

"He is so happy to be fully cleared. No pain, no challenges, he just needs to pace himself…not his forte," Amelia shared.

A few minutes later, Finley and Naomi came down with the twins. The girls, tiny piggy tails on the sides of their heads, were in their swimsuits and swim diapers. Ella was insisting on walking. Finley was trying his best to convince Gwen to walk as he held her hands. When she'd start to flop her leg down, Finley would pull her up under her shoulders and tickle her. The attention and tickling was almost more fun than trying to walk. Ella ran directly past everyone toward the water, yelling, "Dada! Me sim! Me sim!"

Following right behind Ella, Naomi made sure Ella didn't go in the water alone. She warned sweetly, "Wait for your Daddy, Ella."

"Me go, Nai!" Ella pouted as she shot a fiery glance back.

Graciously, Naomi bent down and said, "Yes, you go swim, but wait for your daddy or you don't get to go."

Ella turned toward Owen who was making his way to the shore. Showing her deeply furrowed brow and pouting lip, Ella attempted to convey her plight to her Dada.

"Oh mercy, what is that Naomi?" Owen laughed as he scooped Ella up. "Thanks for watching her, Naomi. You want to come out too?"

"No way," Naomi giggled. "It's way too cold."

Owen pretended like he was going to throw her in and approached her saying, "You sure?"

Naomi stepped backward, groaning, "Finnnnnnlllllleeeeeyyyyy..come save me from your dad."

"Owen Hunt!" Amelia called out sweetly as she took the salad spoon and fork out of the salad she was tossing. She waved the utensils toward him with a warning look.

"I'm just kidding, Naomi. I wouldn't throw you in," Owen promised. "Scout's honor. Really."

Finley ran up and playfully stood between Owen and Naomi. As Owen held Ella in his right arm, Finley pushed his dad's left shoulder in jest, "Leave my girl alone, Hunt."

"You wanna fight?" Owen chortled as he handed Ella to Karev. Alex put her feet in the water and her little teeth chattered dramatically as she squealed, "Mow! Mow!"

Owen and Finley started wrestling as Owen backed up and pulled Finley into the water. Finley didn't give in. He tried to dunk his dad and actually succeeded. Oliver, not wanting to miss out on the fun, came storming into the water so he and Finley could gang up on Owen.

"Wait, wait! I'm injured! Did you forget," Owen exclaimed with drama.

Oliver pulled down on his dad's shoulder yelling, "Nuh-uh, you told us you are all better now!"

Meanwhile, Alex was sitting in two to three inches of water playing with Ella. Jo slipped up quietly to snap pictures of him smiling widely. He shot her a playful look of warning as he returned to a slight grin before turning to Amelia to ask, "Do you have a hat for her? She's gonna fry out here."

Amelia nodded, "Yep, I'll go get it. She has sunscreen on, but the hat is a great idea." She walked inside, pushing on her back yet again. "Holy crap…" she mumbled to herself. "Baby Boy, be nice to your mama. Oh…God…" She hobbled to the hall closet and grabbed the hat, returning to the patio with a stern look on her face, unaware of her expression. "Here," she gasped slightly at Alex as she walked up to him.

"Dude, why is your face all scrunched up?" Alex asked her.

"It's not," Amelia attempted to dismiss his observation.

Alex stood up and whispered, "Seriously, let's go inside for a sec. Mer? Here, take your niece." Nodding his head, Alex motioned Addison to come his way.

"Umm…ok," Meredith said with a puzzled look on her face. She turned to Ella and smiled, "Hello, Ella girl."

After grabbing a towel and drying off quickly, Alex threw the towel around his waist and nudged Amelia toward the kitchen. Again, she was holding her back and attempting to counter-pressure the pain.

"This monkey won't stop kicking me. My back is tired of it," Amelia grumbled as Addison walked toward her with concern.

"Dude, the baby's not doing that," Alex said as he palpated her bump. "You're in labor."

"But I'm having a C. I have to because of the cervix thing with the twins," Amelia stated flatly as if she could talk Alex out of his assessment.

Alex chuckled, "Somebody forgot to inform your body because it's getting ready to go to town."

Addison stepped up and asked, "I don't suppose with all the doctors around here, we have a stethoscope handy?"

"In my med bag, trunk of my car," Amelia stated. Alex nodded and retrieved it. Addie flipped it onto her ears and listened to the baby.

"He sounds steady, but, yeah, you are really tight. You haven't felt _any _contractions today?" Addison sought to confirm.

"No," Amelia shook her head casually, "just this constant backache and foot-in-the-ribs sensation."

"Lemme go get your husband. And don't worry about the party and the kids. We'll all figure that out. Hell, Kepner probably already has a plan drawn up just in case," Karev quipped.

"Sweetie, we need to get to the hospital. Not an emergency, but I'm guessing we don't want to attempt a home birth. Do you have a bag packed?" Addison inquired.

"Yeah, it's already in the car," Amelia explained, overwhelmed by Addie's assessment.

"Go sit in the car. I'll grab some towels in case your water breaks." Addison promised.

Owen was throwing Bronwyn, Zola, and Sofia up above his head one by one and then catching them as they giggled and descended. It was difficult to discern who was enjoying the activity more.

"Hey, Hunt!" Alex bellowed loudly.

Owen pulled Bronwyn to his side to hold her while he paused, "What's up?"

"Need your help in here," Alex called out.

"Ok, I'll be there in a few," Owen responded.

Alex offered his uneven grin and raised his eyebrows, "Hunt?"

"Yeah?" Owen squinted toward Alex with an expression of _Didn't we just cover this?_

"We need an extra set of hands," Alex stated as he attempted not to disclose the big news.

Owen sighed and promised the little girls he'd be back. He drug them up to the shore and asked Finley to make sure they didn't get in the water without an adult. After grabbing a stray towel and starting to dry off, Owen mumbled to Alex, "What's up?"

Alex leaned close to Owen and shared quietly, "Your old lady's in labor. She's in the car waiting for you. Addison's with her. You might wanna grab a shirt."

"My shirt's right here," Owen stated plainly as he turned to one of the dining room chairs. "and I have a pair of flip flops somewhere around here…"

"Dude, go get better shoes. You might be standing awhile, you know?" Alex advised.

Owen nodded, "Good point. Yeah. Umm…our other kids…"

"I'm on it. Don't worry," Alex promised.

Owen entered the garage, calm but concerned. He looked at Amelia, "Hey, Mia…" He squatted down and caressed her hair before kissing her. "Let's get you over to the hospital, huh? Addison, do you want to ride with us or take another car?"

"We have plenty of people here with cars. I'll ride over with you and we'll sort it out later," Addison decided.

Meanwhile, on the patio, Alex quietly spread the word among the adults. Jackson and April agreed to spend the night and take care of the melee until other plans could be put in place. Alex asked Mer what they should do about telling the Shepherd-Hunt kids. Meredith agreed to gather them together and announce the news.

She approached Finley and Naomi and requested, "Finley, could you get your brother and sisters over here for a minute?" Finley nodded, not thinking anything was odd about his aunt's request. After all, his part time job in life was to help gather his brother and sisters.

As they assembled on the tiny beach, Meredith announced, "Guess what? Your parents just left for the hospital. Your baby brother is going to be born today." Naomi and the boys cheered and Bronwyn badgered her auntie for details. The twins kept exclaiming, "Baby!" Meredith explained that Jackson and April would spend the night and that the party would keep going while they waited for news.

* * *

When they arrived at Labor and Delivery, the nurse assigned Amelia and Owen to a room. She met them there a few minutes later to place monitors and leads and to begin prepping Amelia for the C. An orderly wheeled Amelia to the OR while Owen and Addie changed and scrubbed in. The anesthesiologist inserted Amelia's epidural. One of the nurses inserted an IV and began fluids. The whole process unfolded smoothly and swiftly.

Owen and Addison, fully gowned and gloved, stepped in and Addie announced, "Ready to have a baby, Amy?"

Amelia, on the table with her hair in a cap, joked, "Do I have a choice?"

Grasping Amelia's shoulder, Owen leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Mia." Amelia kissed the outside of Owen's mask and smiled.

"Here we go with the first incision. Do you want me to walk you through verbally step by step or just do my job?" Addison asked.

"Cut 'em out and hand 'em over," Amelia quipped. "I don't need the details. Just give us our boy."

Owen stroked Amelia's cheek. Although he had a mask on, Amelia could tell he was smiling at her.

Addison made the second incision, ruptured the amniotic sac, and delivered the newest Hunt. "Just like you expected, a little boy!" Addison joyfully announced as she set the crying baby on his mama.

The baby immediately began rooting and tears fell from Amelia's eyes. "Hi, handsome," Amelia sniffled as she held him and admired his curly red hair. Owen cut the cord and then leaned down to rub the baby's back.

Amelia looked up at Owen and observed, "He looks like his daddy. Look at all that wavy red hair."

"He looks great," Addison declared. "Well done, Mom and Dad. Do you have a name?"

Their eyes met and Amelia kidded her husband, "Does he pass the 'he looks like his name' test or are we going to go through that whole name swap routine again?"

"Nope. He's definitely a Lucas," Owen beamed. Owen looked at Addison and announced, "Lucas Owen Hunt."

"Wonderful," Addison smiled under her mask. "Welcome to the world, Lucas Owen Hunt. You're a lucky kid to have these two as parents. Just wait and see."

The five-minute birth was followed by 40 minutes of suturing. After some cuddling, Amelia entrusted the baby to the pediatrician on call. He and a nurse spent 10 minutes cleaning, measuring, and assessing the baby as Owen snapped pictures of each moment. Once their work was completed, Owen held his son. The Daddy fluctuated between choking up and beaming. He insisted on staying in the OR until Amelia's incisions were closed.

As the two boys waited for Addison to finish, Owen told his boy all about the OR. "See up there?" Owen stated as he cooed at Lucas. "That's where people sit so they can watch surgeries and learn. And over here, that's where the instruments are kept. This is where the gloves are stored and over here are extra robes. And look who is over there…it's your gorgeous, beautiful Mama. She's the most amazing person you'll ever meet, Lucas. You will never find another woman as amazing as Amelia Shepherd-Hunt."

Amelia, listening to the introductory tour, offered, "You're building my pedestal pretty high there, Hunt. Watch out or there'll be nowhere for me to go but down."

In baby talk, Owen responded, "That's just not the case. No, it isn't." Owen dreamily strolled through the room, occasionally sneaking a glimpse at Addison's work. He sat back down by Amelia's head and cooed, "Should we keep your mama company? I'll bet she's pretty bored just lying here." Owen leaned down, pulled his mask off and kissed his wife.

Dryly, Addison grumbled, "Watch out there, Daddy. If anyone tells the Chief of Surgery that you broke protocol and kissed a patient, there could be hell to pay."

Owen turned to Lucas and baby talked, "She may be a brilliant surgeon and a true friend, but she's also very silly, isn't she? Yes, she is. She is indeed."

"You know, somebody should be recording this. When he strikes the fear of God into interns and residents, someone could replay this and completely blow his act," Addison teased. "There we go, Amy. Last stitch. Complimentary tummy tuck included. Everything looks great, vitals are steady, you paid your dues last time. This time, you deserve a textbook experience."

"Thanks, Addie," Amelia croaked out in teary gratitude.

"You want me to call the house?" Addison offered.

"Please. And let them know the kids can come up. How long, Owen? What do you think?" Amelia inquired.

"Let's wait a couple hours. How often will the three of us get to be alone together?" Owen pointed out.

* * *

Jackson and April stayed at the house while Alex and Jo took the kids to the hospital. Alex wanted to check the baby out medically, even though Lucas' condition didn't warrant Alex's level of expertise. Jo had all the kids stop and wash their hands before entering the room, explaining that babies can become sick more easily than big kids. She giggled as she watched Gwen and Ella's pudgy hands splash in the soapy water.

Knocking softly, Alex opened the door a crack and said softly, "We have a huge melee wanting to meet their newest partner in crime."

Amelia was angled up in bed and Owen was holding the baby. Amelia responded softly, "Come on in, melee."

Oliver immediately approached Amelia while Ella, Bronwyn and Finley walked to Owen and Lucas. Alex held Gwen in his arms and approached the baby as well. Wrapping his arms around his mama, Oliver exclaimed sweetly, "Hi, Mommy. You look so pretty." Amelia smiled, not agreeing, but touched by the heartfelt sentiment nonetheless. "Can I climb up and sit with you?"

"Absolutely, but don't you want to meet your baby brother?" Amelia asked.

"If he wants to meet me," Oliver responded playfully, "he can come to me. He's got a whole fan club around him right now anyway. I'm gonna be your fan club." Oliver rested his head on Amelia's shoulder and gently raised her hand, examining her IV. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Nope. It hurts a little when it's put in, but it doesn't hurt once it's in unless you touch it or try to move it," she explained.

Finley carried Lucas over and shared, "Dad thought you might want to hold him, Ollie. He's a lot bigger than the twins were. He's Gigantor Baby."

Owen stepped over with the melee in tow and disclosed, "He's a stocky guy. 9 pounds 4 ounces and 22 ½ inches. I'd say he was fully cooked."

"And then some," Amelia chuckled. "I'm glad he was a C. I think he would've broken me otherwise."

Alex handed Gwen to Owen and mentioned with a grin, "I think Finley's right. He is Gigantor. I'm so used to preemies."

"Do you want to check him out? Is the doctor in you ready to burst?" Amelia teased.

"I won't say no if you hand him to me," Alex grinned. Cradling Lucas in his arms, Alex chatted with Lucas and took him over to the bassinet. The twins were intrigued and glanced that direction. Ella attempted to stretch high enough to see and Gwen kept pulling toward the bassinet. Owen and Finley walked over to hold the girls so they could watch Alex examine the baby.

Ella kept reaching for Lucas' binky and whispering, "bin-y. Ella bin-y."

Gwen joined in, deciding her sister couldn't have the binky, "No. Gwen-ie bin-y."

Ella pointed at her sister in defiance and offered a clarification, "No."

Finley firmly but gently advised, "Ella…stop. That's Luke's binky. Baby's binky." Ella met her brother's words with lowered eyebrows. She continued to open and close her hand, hoping to grasp the new binky.

When Alex completed his exam and declared Lucas up to par, Jo gathered the family around Amelia's bed for a family picture. As she'd done when the twins were born, she took a series of shots that filled the phone with plenty of poses.

The Shepherd-Hunt Family, with eight shining faces, was now complete.

* * *

**_The End_**


End file.
